


For So Bare Is My Heart

by SillyBlue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Castiel, Feminization, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Top Dean, Wartime Violence, mild non-consensual kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 85,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2460152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue/pseuds/SillyBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his attempt to wage a war of revenge against the demons, the young human king Dean attacks the angels, seizing their lands to build a settlement closer to the sulfurous lands. He doesn’t care about the angelic culture that his actions threaten, but when he is given a gift in the form of the vanquished king’s protégé, his understanding of angels has to be challenged.</p><p>After the short but devastating war, Castiel finds himself in the captivity of the man that is responsible for his suffering. Faced with the contradictory nature of his young husband, Castiel has to learn the way of humans in order to not only become someone that does – for the first time in his life – hold power and agency, but also find a way to return to the home from which he has been exiled as a sacrifice for peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the DeanCas Big Bang Challenge 2014.
> 
> Thank you so much [Michelle](http://www.aiulbones.tumblr.com/) for the gorgeous art and [Eve](http://esmerod.tumblr.com/) for the beta work!
> 
> Here's the [ art masterpost](http://burdenedbones.livejournal.com/3522.html)! ♥
> 
> The titel is from Portishead's Undenied.
> 
> Complete warnings: war-time violence, political marriage, mild non-consensual intimacy (kissing when intoxicated), fictional racism (humans vs supernatural creatures), feminization (occasional use of female connoted terms such as “queen” or “wife”), fingering, sex toys, apart from that it's only non-penetrative sex, strongly implied bottom!Cas, strongly implied top!Dean, references to the possibility of Mpreg.
> 
> I have edited the first three chapters to make the story flow a bit better. I hope you enjoy it! ♥

Castiel had been told that a war was never about winners and the vanquished, it was never about the righteous and the evil. Illuminated by the bluish light that shone in its glittering orb hanging from the study ceiling, his mother’s face looked gentle as she told him that he should not be fooled by the tales and the histories he studied, and that there was only one universal truth about conflict and warfare; people were always going to suffer, people were always going to die.

That was the only thing she had been right about. Because in the end the war was about who won and who lost. But his mother lay dead on a stone altar just like all of those who had woven Castiel in this soft and silken cocoon of blissful, gentle ignorance.

When the door to his room was thrown open, he had still been staring in disbelief at the smoke blocking his view over the fields. In just a few short days everything he knew had burst into flames. He was grabbed by rough hands, still slippery with blood and festering with blisters from wielding blades and righteous fury.

_A war wasn’t a game._

Castiel knocked over the chessboard in his struggles to get away, wings trashing against their gold metal armor and long torn robes, shattering all the pieces of the unfinished game between his brothers - both dead, fallen behind enemy lines, tossed into a shallow grave and set fire to. Castiel had felt the burn of disgrace and loss in his very core.

_There were no winners._

He could see the ominous black banners with their stark white writing. Humans. The city walls were torn down and smoke darkened the sky. A deadly silence had fallen over the capital, broken only by the regular beating of drums. Loud, penetrating and victorious. The thump thump of the Winchester victory set the rhythm of Castiel’s own pulse. Accelerating when he saw them in their armor of shining black metal and silver. He had read about the achievements of this rising power in the west, how industrious they were, how knowledgeable and noble in their unrefined ways. But the library was burning, the university’s walls had crumbled, the cathedral had been stripped bare. A huge fire was lit in the courtyard, mocking as it swallowed tomes, icons and angels alike. Castiel couldn’t help fighting the hands of the knights that held him, their countenance hard even as the tears left tracks on their ash covered faces. He was brought into the audience chamber where the crystal chandelier had crashed down and the mosaic floor shattered. He saw him then, a young man dressed in a dark uniform with his head held so high God Himself must have been shining on him.

This war did have a winner. Castiel later learned that he was called Dean Winchester.

_There were no losers._

There were scorched wing marks burned into the ground, the mighty trees of the Garden had lost their leaves, the Grace dispersed into the air under the onslaught of these wingless beasts. Circles of fire littered the courtyard, some empty, their occupants having chosen death over the reality of their defeat. Castiel saw his king and the army generals arranged in a half circle around the human monarch. Torches whose light burned Castiel’s eyes kept them within a big circle of sigils. He gagged at the sight of his father’s wingless back and the dimmed light of his halo. He had lost his wings, his wife, a daughter and two sons to the war. And now, with Castiel’s face being covered by the white veil of sacrifice, he was about to lose another one. His father bowed his head when Castiel passed him and started whispering the laments for those having died far away from God’s guiding hand. Castiel’s very core turned cold. The king raised his hand and it fell heavy on Castiel’s shoulder before he could bolt. There was no Grace coursing through him, not in this human made trap, and Castiel gasped at the limp weight and dampness seeping into his tunic.

“To pay tribute to the conqueror of our holy land, we offer you this child. His name is Castiel,” Metatron spoke, the voice that had once filled the great halls and all the streets of the capital now sounded solemn and dreadful to Castiel.

“What would I want with a scrawny boy angel? I can have my soldiers take all your women and kill all your men,” the human king said, sounding bored.

“We do not have the strength to stop you if you wish to do so,” Metatron continued patiently and Castiel started shaking. “But Castiel is different. He has been bestowed with rare beauty and a sharp mind.”

“Any whore between here and the sulfurous swamps beyond the hills can give me beauty and what does a brain benefit a slave?” Winchester countered with a sneer. Castiel was pushed forwards a step, the veil slightly lifted away. Castiel caught a clearer glimpse of the human king’s face, youthful and beautiful, with bright, fierce eyes. “Okay, the beauty thing wasn’t exaggerated. But what do I need this toy for?”

“He is no toy and he is no slave.” Metatron’s voice quivered with rage and disbelief and even king Michael’s hand clenched around Castiel’s shoulder. “He will bring you prosperity and bear you children. He is one of the only angels left that can.” This was met with silence that lasted for a while. Metatron looked towards Michael, who gave him a slow nod. The human king was waiting for Metatron’s loud voice to fill the ruined hall again. “King Michael only asks you that you will take him as your wife and queen.”

“Why?” the human king demanded, the disdainful sneer audible in his voice. “Why would I want to give you the satisfaction of putting an angel on a human throne when I could as easily dispose of your king and sit on _your_ throne?” A low murmur of appreciation went through the ranks of the soldiers, but there was outrage written on the faces of the angels. Castiel’s eyes were focused on the human king even though he wanted to look away. He appeared to be cool, composed and calculating even though his soldiers were readying themselves to make his threat reality. The king lifted his hand and silence fell again. Metatron took the silence as an invitation to continue.

“If you want to carry on your path of destruction then we are helpless. Castiel is a gift, one that will hopefully steer you towards more pleasurable past times, a gift that you will enjoy for many years to come. But if he comes with you he will be vulnerable in your court, as would be any child he bears.  Through marriage he will be protected, as will be your children. We only ask that you do not spoil something so precious,” Metatron explained to which the king gave no answer. “Will you accept our tribute?”

Castiel knew that they had lost a war that had cost them all too much. A war that they had never intended on fighting.

“I accept your tribute.”

_War had no universal truth, just perspectives._

Castiel was roughly shoved into a horse-drawn chariot, a cage on wheels that tossed him about as it started moving. He saw his lands in ruins and too many dead in the streets. Castiel didn’t understand. He simply couldn’t comprehend what they had done to deserve this destruction.

“Serves those feathered bastards well. They’ve been getting in the way of our affairs for too long,” one of the king’s men snorted as he spat on the ashes of wing marks. Castiel shoved his hands through the bars and would have burned the rotten soul out of him for the disrespect he paid to Zachariah, but the king grabbed his wrist. It was the first physical contact they had and it sent a bolt of dreadful cold through Castiel even though the king’s hand was warm and dry. Castiel quickly raised his head to look at the king, either in defiance or dread, he wasn’t sure, but the stern look of his green eyes were directed at the disrespectful soldier instead.

“Don’t be careless. As long as we’re in their land they can hurt us,” he warned and received a demure nod in return. The king gave Castiel’s wrist a firm squeeze until he could feel his bones strain against the grasp. Then he let go and slammed the little window closed, plunging Castiel into throbbing pain and darkness.

_War had no universal truth. But the one._

Castiel heard the song of lament starting loudly, rising up from the very earth and he wailed. Good bye beautiful child, good bye our sweetest, glorious sacrifice.

He was dead, he was dead, he was dead.

* * *

* * *

 

The little hatch that would have allowed Castiel to see outside of the moving prison wasn’t opened again for what seemed like days. He heard the muffled sounds of people talking on occasion, but most of the time he was left alone with the creaks of the wheels turning and the smoky smell of the wooden case. It was dark but there was a cushioned bench towards the back on which he had sunk once the pain of his bruised wrist and the agitation of the past hours had threatened to make his knees give out. He couldn’t ponder the magnitude of what was to befall him, he couldn’t even process the loss he had suffered himself. He thought of all that old knowledge burning and if they’d clean the wing marks off the floor or if they’d make a monument out of them. He wondered what would happen to father with his wings cut off his back. He wondered how the echoes of his mother’s and sister’s grace would linger in the collective song of the host and how his brothers’ deaths left gaping, aching holes. He wondered what would happen to the capital and the villages now that the barbarians had violated their kingdom, trampling everything down with their heavy soles and splitting the land asunder with canons and firearms. He wondered how history books would document this. He wondered how his living siblings would cope. He wondered what Metatron would say. He wondered why God had given His favor to the humans. He wondered what he had done wrong to deserve this.

His wrist had healed by the time the chariot came to a definite halt. He heard people talking and shouting and it wasn’t long before the door was yanked open. Castiel saw high walls and a canopy of stars appearing in the darkening evening sky before his field of vision was blocked again by a man. His face was thrown into shadow by a bright light from behind.

“We’re here. Come on,” the man said, but other than roughly pulling Castiel out, he offered him his hand. Castiel didn’t want to face his uncertain fate, but staying inside wouldn’t help him either. He took the stranger’s hand and was helped out. In the peculiar artificial light Castiel saw that the man was rather tall and of broad built. The man didn’t offer an introduction, but wrapped the sacrificial veil around Castiel’s face, turning his vision hazy. He knew he was in some sort of backyard where chariots and other vehicles that he had never seen before were kept. “Sorry about the veil, but Dean doesn’t want anyone to get any ideas about you. It’s not as if this part of the castle is anything spectacular to look at,” the man said as he guided Castiel into the castle’s interior. It was slightly chilly, but soon they took a flight of stairs that brought them to a pleasantly warm corridor.

“Dean is the king?” Castiel asked and the stranger was silent before he chuckled.

“So you do speak!”

“Of course I speak,” Castiel answered with puzzlement. “We are in possession of vocal cords and the ability to structure utterances into languages.” The stranger laughed again, patting Castiel’s shoulder.

“Yes, Dean’s the king. He’s a great guy, not that anything I’d say about him right now sounds right to you, of course… I’m sorry about your loss.” Castiel turned his head slightly and looked at the honest blue eyes he could see even through the veil. Castiel couldn’t think of anything to reply to that, so he just averted his eyes again.

The stranger stopped him after they climbed up more steps. “Okay. Here’s your room. Dean’ll probably send in maids to bathe, feed and dress you.”

“I don’t need maids attending to me,” Castiel said with a frown, but the stranger didn’t reply. He unlocked the door and asked Castiel to go in.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable,” he said and then the door was closed and locked and Castiel was alone again.

He took off the veil and looked around the room. It had white walls that met a high ceiling. The windows were big and showed out over dark lands and forests in the distance, intricately woven metal bars attached to them, so Castiel had little chance of fleeing if he opened the windows. The floor was polished wood with a dark green carpet laid close to the bed. The bed was pushed against the wall to the left. It wasn’t too big, but it had draperies of silk and dark green, thicker fabric that could probably conceal Castiel to the world, giving him hours of entire darkness even in the light of day. The opposite wall, not taken by the big windows, was dedicated to a writing desk, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. Castiel walked to the sofa that stood before the window and put his veil there. It still smelled of the ashes of his ruined kingdom. He sat down and looked to the locked door and the small book case standing next to it. As far as cages went, it certainly was a beautiful one.

* * *

 

Dean didn’t stay long enough to see the angel being guided away. The two day ride had been long and tiring. While he was curious to see just who this creature was that Michael wanted him to marry, he didn’t have the patience for it now. The moment he could breathe in the familiar air, made even more fragrant by the celebratory flowers hung everywhere, he felt the tension of the last week drain out of him. The banners were flowing in the light breeze and he knew that there was a victory march waiting for him. Pride swelled in his breast as he walked through the corridors, the servants’ cheers and awed murmuring following him. His sword was still attached to his hip, he was dressed in his best uniform and the elation carried him past the portraits of his ancestors. Past the eyes full of pride and determination, past the calculating looks, past the watchful eyes of his father and the intelligent and loving gaze of his mother.

He did it, this was the first step towards justice. He abruptly came to a halt when he saw Sam standing in the doorway, blocking his access to the secretary’s office. He could see relief and disapproval warring on his brother’s face.

“Hey there, Sammy,” Dean said with a wide grin and his brother’s resolve to stay angry dissolved. In a few quick strides Dean had him in his arms, hugging him tightly. Sam clung to him, disregarding the stench of day old sweat and smoke clinging to Dean.

“Are you hurt?” Sam wanted to know, quickly glancing over Dean even as he told him he was fine. Sam breathed a sigh of relief but then he scrunched up his nose, like the strong smell of smoke and ash finally registered. But the sour look was probably just the age old disapproval of Dean waging war.

“Don’t tell me you’re disappointed that I won?” Dean challenged and Sam shook his head. “Good, because I’d come back as a ghost and haunt your ungrateful ass.” The forced lightness of the tone didn’t fool Sam. “Where’s Charlie?”

“Still at Grandma Josie’s place, as you ordered. News of your victory will probably reach her soon,” Sam said even as Dean pushed past him to get into the office. “What’s that?” Sam asked curiously, eying the parchment Dean unceremoniously dropped onto the open book lying on the table.

“Treaty. Or rather purchase documents for an angelic toy,” Dean told him with a snort. “Bobby’ll have to check it for me.”

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” Sam exclaimed indignantly and snatched the parchment off the table before Dean could take it back. “Benny told me to prepare a room for a guest, but an angel? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Hey-“ Dean wanted to argue, but Sam’s eyes were going over the lines, his expression becoming steadily darker.

“You agreed to marry the captive angel and make him your queen? If I put aside how despicable this political scheming on the back of a human being is-“

“He’s no human being!” Dean interjected, but Sam just raised his voice and talked over him:

“-there’s still the fact that this future queen is an angel! I thought you hated angels!” Dean snatched the document out of Sam’s hands before he could find more reasons to complain.

“Oh I hate angels, alright!” Dean snapped at him. Sam shook his head.

“Then why marry one? You do understand that if you put an angel on the throne you’ll give him a certain amount of political power,” Sam told him. “I’m sure Bobby will tell you just how stupid it was to agree to the terms!” Dean’s patience was running out. He was tired and ached from the battles and the journey home and hearing his brother complain instead of celebrating his victory was not what he had wanted upon his return.

“It’s only on the document. He has been given to me as a brood mare and that’s already fucking weird man. But he’s selling it as procreation and prosperity, right? So what if I’ll have to play along with Michael’s desperate attempts at saving his hide and preserving some sense of dignity? I don’t care. I didn’t have to give him as much, hell, I didn’t have to give him _anything_. Because he lost!” Dean breathed in loudly through his nose and took a second to control his voice before he continued. “I’m not a total asshole. He was desperate, he asked for a small mercy and I gave it to him. So I got a pet and he thinks he’s got a chess figure inside my court.”

“Dean… I’m… I’m just telling you that this is a bad idea. Just consider his position. Do you think you can just lock him away for the rest of his life and only visit him when you want to put your dick somewhere?”

“What my dick does isn’t your business,” Dean said defensively and Sam rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of desperation in his eyes that made Dean bite back on the next sarcastic remark.

“It _is_ my business, Dean. As your brother! You’ll eventually have children. And any children that aren’t born to you by Castiel will be illegitimate. Maybe here in Lawrence there will be no issue with putting an illegitimate daughter or son on the throne, but think about the reactions in the rest of Winchester.”

“I don’t fucking care, Sam. Okay?” Dean groaned, tossing the document back down for Bobby to take care of. “This is politics. And I will marry a beast if I have to.”

“But you don’t have to!” Sam shouted after him when he left the office. Dean ignored him. He had a victory to celebrate and a wedding to prepare. It was all a show, but he did at least deserve a feast.

* * *

 

The victory ceremony was still going strong when Dean finally joined it. Despite the late hour, song and jeers came from all the corners of the town around the castle. Often having to stop and receive congratulations on the well-earned dominion over angel territory, it took Dean almost two hours to get from his castle to Ellen’s tavern at the other end of Lawrence.

“I need you to prepare a lavish feast! I won’t trust my cook with it,” he said before she too could congratulate him.

“A feast?” Ellen asked, one eyebrow raised while her daughter Jo and all of the patrons came closer to listen. “I assume you’re not talking about the victory march as we’ve already covered that weeks ago.” Dean shook his head, sitting down at the bar, where he received some more claps on the back.

“Nah. I brought a prize from the land of angels. And I need you to make a wedding cake. Or pie, preferably.” The explanation was met with a moment of surprised silence, before some or the patrons started laughing and congratulating him. Dean wasn’t surprised and the doubts about the union were swept away under the cheers. And why shouldn’t he cheer as well? He had conquered the angels and he had brought home a visible sign of it. The creature was beautiful beyond all means, clad in white robes and graced with dark feathers. Any man would envy him his trophy.

“You can’t have pie for your wedding!” Jo told him with a snort. “And are you out of your mind? You want to marry? An angel on top of that?!”

“Those were the conditions. The union has to be legitimate, as well as the children coming of it.” Jo looked at him with very much the same incredulous disapproval as Sam had, not three hours ago. It was starting to get on his nerves. “It’s just a title, Jo. Being my consort doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Not mean anything? Has an angel blown out your brains? A queen has power! A queen can rule! And she’s an angel! You want to have a monster sit on the throne next to you!” Jo screamed but most of her anger was met with laughter from the other patrons. Before Dean could say anything Ellen intervened.

 “Calm down, Jo,” Ellen warned her and Jo made a disgruntled face but leant back against the counter, frowning to herself. “You better explain yourself. What’s that talk about your wedding? Whispers are all over town.”

“And of course your ears are all over town as well,” Dean joked and Ellen rolled her eyes. “But yes, it’s true. I guess they tried to win my favor by handing over one of their most precious angels. His selling points were beauty, brains and babies.” Ellen looked puzzled for a moment, but then her face hardened. Dean noticed at once and groaned. “Come on. Just say yes and let the details be other people’s worries. Okay?”

“Fine then, I’ll take care of your wedding ceremony, but I don’t agree with it.” Dean grinned despite the criticism.

“Great! How soon can we get this over with?”

“Wow, don’t you sound thrilled?” Jo supplied from behind the bar, but she went largely ignored.

“Those things take time to prepare, boy. Give me a month,” Ellen told him, then she turned away, ending the conversation. While Dean was slightly put off to be met with disapproval, he thanked her and, after a drink, left to find the angel.

* * *

 

The angel sat on the sofa, reading, by the time Dean came into the room. This was the first time Dean could get a proper look at who was become the official person at his side for the rest of his life. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel ill at ease with the prospect of being in close proximity of an angel, but when he thought of him as a trophy it was easier. He was washed and dressed in a long white robe. The veil was lying next to him. The angel looked up, eying him warily as Dean walked over to him, pulling an armchair close to sit opposite him. His mesmerizing blue eyes were framed by long black lashes. His face was smooth and pale maybe just a shade darker than Dean’s when he wasn’t out in the fields waging wars, with a soft looking mouth that invited kisses but was currently turned down at the corners. His cheeks were pink, a natural dusting of gentle color that made him look healthy. His hair was dark and tousled, some strands curling around his temple and ears. He was breath-taking and Dean felt an unexpected spike of interest. When he had accepted Michael’s offer he had thought of it as a formality. A necessity because the desperate plea reminded Dean that even an enemy deserved a chance at mercy. But was mere beauty enough to sway Dean?

“What was your name?” Dean asked and watched the angel look back into the book, turning a page and avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“Castiel,” the angel said and Dean put both hands on his knees, bending closer slightly.

“Okay, fine Castiel. Welcome to your new home.” Castiel looked up, the flash of something dangerous lighting up his eyes before the angel exhaled, the gentlest quiver going through his shoulders, rustling the dark feathers of the tightly folded wings. They seemed small to Dean but he knew that those wings could be massive, strong enough to carry grown angels.

“What do you intend to do with me?” Castiel asked and Dean looked at him with a grin.

“Well, since your people gave you as a tribute to me, we’ll both uphold the ends of our bargains. The wedding ceremony will be held in 4 weeks.” Castiel didn’t say anything, he merely looked at Dean with sorrow etched into his features. Despite himself, Dean found that the creature’s sadness touched him and he reached out to put his hand to Castiel’s cheek like he would touch a nervous horse. The angel jerked back, bringing up both hands to fend off Dean’s fingers. Dean caught sight of the bruise around one of Castiel’s wrists and he remembered how it had felt in his palm. How warm and soft his skin had been, how frail. “I’m sorry about your wrist.”

“It is healed,” was all that Castiel said, but turned his head away when Dean reached out again to touch his face. “Don’t-“

“Shh, I’m not going to hurt you,” Dean said, taking Castiel’s chin between his fingers and turning it towards him. “Look at me.” Castiel reluctantly looked up at him, his eyes dark and reproachful. “I’m not a monster. I’ll try to make you as comfortable as possible,” he said, dragging his thumb over the soft flesh of Castiel’s lower lip. “What do you need?” Castiel lifted his hand to put it over Dean’s and pushed it away. Castiel’s eyes had lost that spark of fight and now the sorrow shone wetly in them again.

“I want to go home,” he said. Dean sighed and drew away his hand. “Please.”

“That’s not possible and you know it.” Dean said, rising and stepping away before the angel could grab his shirt and beg. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Castiel.” As he closed the door and turned the key in its lock. For a moment Dean stood in front of the closed door, listening, but the angel was silent. Dean shook his head and walked away.

* * *

 

Castiel woke on the first day of his captivity as the lock sprang open. He recognized the woman as one of the maids that had washed and dressed him yesterday. She didn’t talk to him and clearly still stayed as far away from him as possible, even as she put breakfast on his table and a new set of clothes on the sofa. She frowned at Castiel sitting in his bed, eying the state of the blankets.

“I’ll dress myself and I can make the bed myself,” he told her, startling her.

“The king ordered-“

“I’m not a child. I can do it myself,” Castiel insisted and the maid seemed torn, before she gave a nod and left swiftly, the key turning and the lock clicking. Castiel wondered what she thought of him, what all of them thought of him. Did they even understand what he was? Did they understand the glory they were debasing, locking away in a splendid prison?

Castiel dragged himself out of bed, even though he wished he could just sleep until he died or the Winchester kingdom crumbled, whatever happened first. He dressed himself, the fabric feeling itchy on his skin despite the apparent high quality and the beautiful embroidery on the silken shirt and the soft pants. He longed for his own robes again, even if they were covered in ash, stank of smoke and the veil reminded him of how he had been given up to spare lives.

The food was peculiar, but since he wasn’t sure when he would be served another meal he ate it all, thanking Heaven that small mercies were still bestowed upon him.

The door wasn’t unlocked again after breakfast and Castiel was unsure what he should do in his isolation. He didn’t know if anybody would come to demand something of him. If Dean would tire of him and destroy him quickly, or if he would come to claim and bind him. His core vibrated with dread when he thought about being bound for all eternity to a man who had taken his land and killed so many of his family.

Fear and fantasy kept him occupied until another maid came to take away his food and supply him with more. She prepared a bath for him and asked if he wanted for anything. She was visibly uncomfortable when Castiel had to bite back a sob (because of course… of course he wanted! He wanted to leave this castle, he wanted to go home, he wanted his family to be alive and well). She swiftly left with his used plates from breakfast once he had managed to shake his head. He went into the adjoining bath room and sank into the hot tub and tried to keep himself from crying.

* * *

 

Dean came into the angel’s chambers with the fall of night.  The creature was in the same position as he had last seen him: holding a book in his palms, sitting in front of the window. Now that Dean had entered, the angel was tense, the book forgotten, the wings drawn close to his body and his eyes firmly fixed on Dean’s every move. Dean lifted both his hands to show that he was unarmed and meant him no harm.

“Hey!” he greeted and sat down in the armchair again. “What did you do all day?”

“I was reading,” Castiel answered slowly, almost as if he feared that the answer might be met with punishing fists. Dean bit back a sigh and decided to lower his voice a bit, trying not to spook him.

“Don’t you get bored? What did you do in your old home?” Castiel opened his mouth as if to protest, but he closed it again and didn’t answer. “Come on, tell me. We have to get to know each other.”

“I was in training,” Castiel replied eventually, “not as a soldier, but as a tactician and expert on spell work.”

“Spell work,” Dean repeated curiously.

“Nothing that would work against humans. We did not believe to be endangered by your kind,” Castiel said and Dean wasn’t sure how to reply to the reproach in his voice. So he merely shrugged.

“I can’t really see you as a tactician though. According to Michael, your selling point is your ability to bear children,” Dean said and looked down to the angel’s lap. “I always thought you were junkless, all of your lot. Sam told me that only 1 in 1000 angels has the ability to procreate and those that can bear children are even rarer.” Castiel didn’t reply, but he nodded. “It’s odd to think that you will be the one to have my children. But well… I’m not the kind of guy to be unfaithful, so I guess it’ll happen sooner or later.”

“I would prefer if it didn’t happen,” Castiel bit out and Dean was momentarily stunned. But then he covered the sudden bite of uncertainty gnawing at him with an uneasy chuckle. Political arrangements aside, they had not actually started off well. Some reluctance on the angel’s part was to be expected. But in the end Castiel was here to have children and Dean doubted that he was as unwilling as he claimed if childbearing was such a rarity for angels.

“We’ll warm up to each other eventually,” he said, more to himself than to Castiel

 “It’s still a while until the wedding will take place. I’ll get you things to entertain you until then. What do you want?” Castiel turned to look at him, his expression bordering on angry. Certainly it was challenging, not the same reluctant meekness of before.

“I want to go home,” he said and Dean lifted an eyebrow. “Release me. I want to go home,” Castiel repeated.

“There is no home you can return to,” he said and saw the defiance crumble away instantly. It made him pause and he regretted being so tactless. He hadn’t meant to be mean. “So… uhm… games? Do you play an instrument?” Castiel opened and closed his mouth voicelessly, choking on a sob that wouldn’t quite pass his lips. Dean retreated a little bit and the angel breathed loudly through his nose, tears making his eyes shine bright. “I always thought angels played harps. I’ll go get you a harp.” Dean got out of his chair and gave Castiel’s shoulder a tentative squeeze. He was almost surprised when he met no resistance or flinch. Unsure what to make of it, Dean left. The sound of Castiel’s sobs followed him to bed.

* * *

 

The days passed in similar fashion, one blurring into the next. A beautiful golden harp came to stand in the corner, but Castiel did not know how to use it and his fingers plucked nothing but wrong, painful tunes from it. Maids came and went without speaking a word and Dean’s visit became more frequent. While he had kept himself to creeping in like the shadows at the end of day, he now came at random intervals. Sometimes with sweat glistening on his brow and dirt in his hair. Sometimes bleeding. Always laughing as if he had no care in the world, as if there had not just been a war, as if he wouldn’t soon marry one of those he had despised enough to slaughter them. Dean’d tell him each day of things that meant nothing to Castiel – of lands conquered, of settlements and colonies, of siblings and most of all of the progress in the wedding preparations. Since Castiel’s window was facing out over the gardens within the castle wall and then the fields and forests and hills beyond, he saw nothing of the decorations that were set up or the cheerful colors the citizens wore.

Each day Dean would ask him what he wanted and each day Castiel gave him the same reply. While Dean usually bore this with minimal reaction, this evening something dark crosses his expression.

“I understand that you miss your home, but Michael’s deal was very clear. This castle is your home now,” he told him.

“This place can’t be my home,” Castiel told him fiercely, not sure where he got the energy to be angry from. But he was angry. “You might have stolen me from my home-“

“I didn’t steal you!” Dean interjected but Castiel ignored him.

“- and you might have a parchment that tells otherwise, but I don’t belong to you.” That got a reaction out of Dean almost instantly. Dean got up from his armchair and loomed above Castiel, staring down at him. He might no longer be wearing his uniform or his weapons, but right now he looked just as threatening as he had on that fateful day when the city walls had fallen.

“I conquered your kingdom and I brought your species to its knees. Your king bowed before me, your king _threw_ you at me, like you were a sacrifice for a wrathful god,” Dean told him, his voice low and dangerous. “Everything belongs to me, including you. I am your _king_.” Castiel flinched at hearing that word and averted his eyes, unwilling to look Dean in the eyes.

“You’re a cruel king,” was all he said, willing to risk punishment. Dean didn’t reply and left Castiel to his own despair.

* * *

 

Castiel’s voice echoed in Dean’s head and he slammed the door in anger, making both Sam and Bobby jump. Dean narrowed his eyes, finding his mentor and brother conspiratorially bent over documents.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, holding on to the discomforting anger that Castiel’s refusal and his own harshness towards his betrothed had caused him.

“What’s going on with _you_ , boy?” Bobby asked in return, “get out of my office if you want to speak in that tone to me.” Dean frowned, but he kept his mouth shut and walked up to the table.

“We’ve been going over the documents that have been supplied to you by this Metatron guy. You know, information on your future queen,” the older man explained, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding his head towards the parchments strewn over the table.

“So, what’s it saying?” Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam giving him a dirty, disapproving look. He had had better things to do than read stuff on Castiel, like getting to know him first hand for example.

“I get now why that douche feathered king demanded that he became at least a part of your court,” Bobby said and Dean put his hands on the rough wood, peering down at the documents.

“You mean besides him being a haughty dick with wings?” Dean spat and Bobby rolled his eyes at him.

“Because your Castiel is part of the higher echelons of angel society. His mother was a princess, married to one of the wealthiest angels. He’s got the pedigree to sit on the throne next to you. And on top of that he’s one of the fertile ones. Scheming aside, it’s not all that surprising that Michael would dare to demand at least some social recognition for him even if he’s being debased.”

“Debased? I thought you were on my side!” Dean said, banging his fist on the table. “That Sam with his high moral standard would disapprove was obvious, but you? You know how hard I fought!” Bobby lifted his hands at that.

“Yeah, boy, but-“

“No buts! I gave up the life I had and risked everything to fight the angels! So I deserve something good!” Dean shouted and both Sam and Bobby didn’t dare contradict him on this. “So what if I marry Cas? Or some other pretty princess of a neighboring territory? It doesn’t matter!”

“But the way you treat those that rely on you for happiness does,” Sam spoke up, for the first time since Dean entered the room. Dean glared at him, feeling even more defensive than before. The look on Sam’s face let Dean know that his brother expected some sort of angry retaliation but Dean was not in the mood for this now. So he snorted and put on a smile so fake that it hurt his cheeks.

“Are you done? Because the way I see it my marriage is none of your business.”

“Dean,” Sam started but Dean fixed him with a warning glare. “If you go through with the wedding night, he will be bound to you. I found very little on that magic, but-“

“But he’ll be mine when I have sex with him, yeah I get that. I know how angelic soul bonds work.” Sam seemed surprised that Dean knew what he was talking about and Dean was too annoyed to be as offended as he should be. What did Sam think Dean did in preparation of a fight against angels? He probably knew more about what made them tick than Sam did. He just didn’t care beyond how things worked.

“Yes, but do you really understand it beyond the bare necessities? It’s not just the angelic version of a wedding vow. It means that where you go, he has to go. He can’t go far away from you without feeling pain. This soul bond means that he won’t be able to leave you, no matter what you do.” Dean frowned at that. “Is that really what you want?” Dean didn’t answer, feeling the weight of both Bobby and Sam’s eyes on him. For some reason he wanted Castiel more than most things he had wanted before. And he knew he could get it. A low nausea settled in his stomach and he decided that it was time to take the easy way out and change the topic:

“Hey, Bobby. I need to tell Ellen how many people we’ll be expecting during the ceremony,” he said and Bobby didn’t lose a beat before he nodded wordlessly. Dean kept his eyes lowered, focusing on the task at hand. The wedding. He would have power over Castiel. He would be his conqueror, his king. It was a show of his human dominance visible for all kingdom to see. It was what he wanted. Hell, it was what he deserved.

“Dean? Are you okay? You’re a bit pale” Sam asked, voice nearly a whisper. Dean frowned, pushing down the queasy feeling in his stomach.

“I’m fine, Sammy,” Dean said and lifted up a paper with the calculated costs for the flower arrangements. “Just fine.”

* * *

 

More than a week passed and Castiel found himself an expert on the history of humans as written in the tomes in his chamber. He could recite poetry – quite basic and uninspired but he assumed that nothing would be as glorious as the host’s song – and he knew how humans loved in those books. Destructive, all-encompassing and possessive. Dean seemed to be the same though Castiel would hardly call Dean’s interest in him love.

Right now the king leaning against the writing desk and looking at pictures. Flower arrangements he had been told, but once Castiel had made his disinterest visible, Dean had abandoned his attempt at showing him the pictures. But when Castiel next looked up from his book he found Dean had stopped studying his flower prints and was studying Castiel instead.

“It is odd,” Dean said, “I always thought that angels had golden halos and fluffy wings.” He showed up a picture of an arrangement that was mostly white and yellow even though Castiel couldn’t name the flowers. “The florist said that this would match an angel. Well, he apparently hasn’t seen you.”  

“I have a halo and my wings are more than decorations,” Castiel replied tensely. “You have seen them burned into the ground, you have cut them off the backs of my brethren. And just because your eyes aren’t able to see me for who I am, doesn’t mean that I don’t exist beyond this image you’ve concocted of me,” he spat in the end, but it still sounded feeble to him. At times he wished he had the strength to fight Dean, maybe just enough to take the key that dangled so temptingly from Dean’s belt. If only his fingers were nimbler or he had any hope of overpowering him just long enough to unlock the door and find the next open window to fly out of. Dean looked at him, frowning slightly as he seemed to think something through.

“So your wings…,” Dean said, thoughts of flower arrangements apparently forgotten for the time being.

“I’m away from home, they’re weaker now without the Grace to sustain them...,” Castiel said, clenching his hands into fists.

“And you can fly?” he wondered eventually. It wasn’t the retort Castiel had expected, so he nodded slowly, uncertain why Dean wanted to know. Castiel felt unease spread within him as Dean’s eyes wandered over the space over his shoulders. “Would you fly from me if I gave you the chance?” he asked after a while, stunning Castiel with the question. When Castiel couldn’t answer, Dean sighed and put the pictures down on the writing table. He kneeled down in front of Castiel. Castiel didn’t know what he was planning to do, so he didn’t resist when Dean took Castiel’s hand into his. “I don’t want to see you unhappy.”

“Yes,” Castiel breathed and Dean looked up, his expression hard to read. “Yes,” Castiel repeated louder this time. “I would fly from you in a heartbeat.” Dean didn’t answer. “You lock me up in here but expect me to be happy? You can’t make me happy Dean. I want to go home.” Dean narrowed his eyes, studying Castiel’s face, before he lowered his head and nodded pensively.

“Okay, fine,” was all Dean said, then he let Castiel’s hands go and rose to his feet. Puzzled, Castiel blinked up at him. “You’ll change your mind.”

“No,” Castiel told him sadly and Dean breathed in deeply, probably holding back his anger, then he turned and left him alone. The tension left Castiel right away and he let himself fall against the sofa’s back, feeling boneless, tired and sad. So, so sad.

* * *

 

It was four days to the wedding and Dean was throwing his glass against the wall.

“What do you expect?” his brother asked with a disapproving snort, not taking his eyes off the book he was reading. “He’s an angel. You’re not supposed to cage him.”

“And why not?” Dean demanded, turning around swiftly, slamming both his palms on the table, before he lifted one hand again, and fiercely pointed towards his chest. “I conquered his lands and they practically threw him before my feet in an attempt to appease me! And I did let them off lightly.”

“You reduced the angelic population by half. You’ve made the angel kingdom your colony and you placed a couple of your best men there to guard the towns and build settlements. You haven’t let them off lightly,” his brother said, raising his eyes to look at Dean disapprovingly.

“I could have burned it all down, Sam. I could have torched all of those winged bastards not because I had to,” Dean said, again pointing to his chest, “but because I could. I was superior. I was stronger and I could have shown these assholes what it means to underestimate the Winchesters.” Sam glared up at him, slamming the book shut.

“And why?! They are angels, Dean! They’ve never actively harmed us! Just because they didn’t provide aid against the demons doesn’t mean that they’re bad! That’s n-“

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean hissed warningly and Sam did bite his lips and ceased talking. “This is not about them. It’s about Cas.” Sam sighed and leant back in his chair, shaking his head at Dean.

“You think he’ll magically stop being miserable if you shower him in luxuries?” Dean shrugged. “Well he won’t. You’re treating him like a pet and not a person.”

“He’s an angel,” Dean interjected defensively and Sam snorted.

“And yet he’s to be your husband… Dean. Don’t you see how that doesn’t work? You can’t treat him like a prisoner and expect him to behave like your beloved…” Dean didn’t say anything and his brother lowered his head. “It’s sad… Just remember that once you take him, he’ll be bound to you for the rest of his life.”

“That’s why I want to make him happy, why won’t you understand that?!” Dean asked pulling his hand through his hair.

“Happy?” Sam asked with a sorrowful expression. “I think you know that you can’t make him happy, Dean… From the moment you plunged your sword into the breast of the very first angel, you doomed him.” Dean took the book off Sam’s table and hurled it at the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel didn’t see his future husband for an entire week. He couldn’t even be happy about the reprieve that gave him. There was no way to tell what Dean was planning now. Maybe Castiel’s constant refusal had made Dean run out of patience. He doubted that a man as possessive as Dean would let him go, not when days of pleading had fallen on deaf ears. So Castiel lay awake long into the nights, thinking about his fate. Maybe Dean would send his men to grab him, drag him through the city, its joyful decorations turning into the colors of Castiel’s demise. Maybe they’d pull him beyond the city walls and burn him. Maybe Dean would look on, seeing his wings ignite with fire, seeing the ash that Castiel would become. Maybe that would please him. Pretty women that could bear him heirs could be found anywhere. Castiel’s death wouldn’t impact him. It would impact no one, not when his own home already considered him another altar erected in the cathedral.

He was still lying in bed after another restless, tearful night and a cold, lonely day that hadn’t given him much reprieve either, when the curtain was gently pulled to the side and king Dean was peeking in. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat and he tensed immediately. But he was too tired to fight. If they would drag him out now to destroy, so be it. But then Dean pulled the curtain to the side, letting in the bright, orange light of early evening, making Castiel turn his head into the pillow. 

“Cas… Hey… Have you been crying again?” Dean reached out to gently tuck Castiel’s hair behind his ear, then he traced Castiel’s cheek with his knuckles. Castiel let himself be pulled into a sitting position and he rubbed his eyes when Dean left the bed. “I have brought you something. I hope it’ll cheer you up. Come look.” Castiel sighed deeply. He didn’t like to admit it to himself, but he was glad that Dean didn’t plan on killing him for his disobedience. He wasn’t sure when marriage to a man he didn’t love became preferable to death, but it was. He didn’t want to die in a faraway land, he didn’t want to die the death of dishonor his own people had made him face. He got up, putting his feet into the warm silk slippers that the maids have put there earlier in the morning and walked over to Dean. Dean was out of his uniform and like Castiel seemed to be dressed for bed still, with a robe wrapped around him, his legs bare and his feet also clad in slippers. Dean took Castiel’s hand into his and pulled him to the table. Castiel looked at the various wrapped parcels with wide eyes. He could feel and see the traces of Grace woven into the pure white packing and the golden ribbons. With shaking fingers he opened the biggest one, pulling the purple silk aside to find something unexpected beneath.

“That’s… That’s the robe my mother wore at her wedding,” he whispered, tracing the golden embroidery stitched along the cuffs. He looked up at Dean to find him grinning. “How…”

“I requested for it. I couldn’t get your father to communicate with me, but your sister was willing to provide the dress, since it had been passed on to her,” Dean explained. “I asked for your father’s garments first, but your sister insisted on the dress. Sorry about that.”

“Why do you apologize? Is it odd for me to wear a dress?” Castiel asked, not able to be apprehensive about the impending marriage now that he had something of his home in his hands.

“Well… You’re still a dude, aren’t you? Maybe you would have preferred something with pants,” he guessed and Castiel frowned at him.

“Angels all wear robes to ceremonies,” he said.

“Okay, then forget what I said,” Dean told him with a laugh, then he motioned towards the other things. “Rachel didn’t like me at all and your sister Hester even punched me in the face, but they still made me wrap all these things up and take them home to you instead of not talking to me at all.”

“She punched you?” Castiel asked with raised eyebrows and Dean pointed towards a reddish spot on his jaw. “You got off lightly.” Dean laughed and watched Castiel unwrap more of the presents. He found his books and notebooks, as well as dresses, shoes and jewelry. A long wooden box held his sword, which had been taken away the day he had been brought to Dean.

“I wasn’t sure if I should give this to you… But Hester explained that these swords are part of you. They aren’t used in battles against humans, but in defense against demons… So I…” Dean rubbed his neck. “I hope she wasn’t lying to me, but I think I need to trust you at least a bit if we’re to be wed tomorrow.” Castiel had been marveling at his sword, the power that pulsated through him gave his wings new strength. He felt the hands of his sisters on it, their Grace and well-wishes and apologies. He realized that even though the kingdom and his father considered him dead and lost, his sisters didn’t. There was hope yet. If only he could flee and meet them. He had been so lost in thoughts that he almost dropped his sword when Dean’s words registered.

“What? The wedding is tomorrow?” he asked and Dean laughed.

“It’s already been over a month, Cas. I had to postpone it as I just came back a couple of hours ago. Otherwise we would already be on our way to the church by now.” He put his hand into Castiel’s sleep tousled hair. “Do you like my gifts?”

“I… Yes, thank you,” Castiel forced out and Dean sighed. He turned away slightly, leaning against the table with his arms crossed.

“And yet I don’t know what to do to make you happy…” Castiel bit his lips.

“You know how to make me happy,” he replied gently and Dean lowered his head, shaking it slightly. Castiel hesitated, but then he put his sword on the table and put his hands on Dean’s elbows. He was not stupid, he knew what Dean wanted of him. Dean immediately lifted his head and opened his arms to allow Castiel to press himself to Dean’s front, resting his head on Dean’s chest. “Let me go, Dean… And I’ll be happy.” Dean didn’t say anything, but wrapped his arms around Castiel. They held on to each other in silence.

* * *

 

Castiel rose from the bed as the first rays of the sun shone into his room. This was the day he’d be married to Dean, taking away Castiel’s chance to return home as a free man. Breathing in deeply, Castiel sat down on the sofa, amidst the presents he had received. He had to leave before Dean claimed him.

Castiel nervously tugged at the fabric of his mother’s robe while he waited for the maids to come see him. He would be able to overpower them, take the key and find the next window that didn’t have bars. He knew that this was the easiest way of escape, but not the only one. His wings trembled with anticipation, but the door never opened, even as the room got brighter and the morning progressed. Confused, Castiel let go of the dress to stand up. He paced the room, once or twice, trying to figure out why there was a change in routine. Maybe Dean would come again to prepare him for the wedding himself. He knew nothing about human marriage rituals, but if it was indeed Dean that came to see him, then the situation would be far more precarious. If Dean was his opponent, then he had to use the sword and he wanted to avoid bloodshed. He had made another turn before he noticed a piece of paper on his writing desk. He made a grab for it, breaking the seal and skimming the handwritten words.

_“Sam said you might need a run down on how this marriage works to put you at ease,”_ the paper read in what he guessed to be the king’s writing. _“We are to be wed at midday.”_ Castiel quickly turned to the window, seeing the sun already rising above the trees. He had maybe 3 to 4 hours before the allotted time. _“I will let you dress in privacy, giving you the time to complete whatever pre-nuptial rituals you might have. I will have someone of my guard come to pick you up. There will be a parade through the city in one of my chariots. You’ll meet me at the church, where the ceremony is to take place. Together we’ll ride back into the palace where there’ll be celebrations. I hope you’re well rested, it’ll be a long and eventful day.”_

Castiel put the letter down, resisting the urge to tear it apart in his frustration. He had wasted time because he hadn’t seen this. Of course Dean would be cautious; of course he’d send a guard to pick him up instead of leaving the more defenseless maids in Castiel’s presence.

Dean couldn’t possibly fool himself enough to believe that Castiel wouldn’t get desperate so close to the ceremony.

Castiel tossed the paper back onto the writing table and grabbed the robes. It wasn’t too late yet, he’d get his opportunity.

* * *

 

When the door was finally unlocked, Castiel was washed and dressed. The person, who Castiel assumed to be a member of Dean’s guard, wore a bright smile that quickly dimmed when she took in Castiel’s appearance.

“Hi, I’m Charlie,” she said and with some dismay Castiel saw her lock the door after her. “I’m here to accompany you.” Castiel didn’t say anything and Charlie shifted around awkwardly for a bit, tugging at her robes and hair before she looked up at Castiel again.

“Hello,” Castiel said after a while and Charlie beamed at him. Reserve forgotten, she approached him, taking his hands into her own and looking him up and down.

“Are you unwell? You look really pale and I doubt that’s just wedding jitters,” she said and gave his hands a squeeze. Castiel, even though he knew that Charlie was an accomplice in his impending demise, couldn’t help feeling a surge of warmth. He felt that she was kind, but he didn’t think she was kind enough to let him go.

“I am unwell,” Castiel agreed, “this wedding should not happen.” Charlie let go of his hand, confused, and Castiel immediately craved her touch again.

“I know,” she said with a sigh, “arranged marriages are so outdated. I know that it was strategically wise to forge an alliance with the angels, but it’s rarely ideal…”

“It’s not an alliance, Charlie,” Castiel said and the woman looked up at him quizzically, but before Castiel could plead with her to let him go, to just turn a blind eye, there was a loud knock on the door. Charlie shot Castiel an insecure look, but then she darted to the door and opened it to reveal the stern looking face of a man.

“Your Royal Highness, you shouldn’t dally too much. It’s time to go,” he said, raising his dark eyes only for a short moment to look at Castiel, before he averted them again.

“But Victor… I… I think we’re not ready,” Charlie said and she looked over her shoulder. “I mean… uh…. Look at Castiel’s hair! Shouldn’t we try to weave flowers into it?”

“You can weave flowers when you’re on parade. Right now your brother is waiting for his bride and if you don’t hurry  up we’ll delay the entire procedure,” Victor said and even though Castiel saw Charlie getting ready for protest, Victor brushed past her and approached Castiel.

“My apologies,” he said, and took a hold of Castiel’s shoulders. He wasn’t rough and he was very careful not to jostle Castiel’s wings, but the press of his fingers was firm. “Allow me to lead you two to the chariot.” Castiel took a deep breath, but then he nodded, realizing that resistance was futile right now.

For the first time since he was imprisoned Castiel saw the outside of his room. By daylight the corridors were wide and inviting, with light streaming in through the high windows. Castiel wistfully looked at the open windows that let in a soft breeze and the noise of people. Charlie stepped up to him and slipped her hand into his, giving it an encouraging squeeze. He looked down at her and she showed him a small smile. Maybe Castiel had an ally in Charlie after all.

When they reached the entrance hall of the castle, Victor had to tug at him to get him to move again. Many people were about and through the open doors he could already see the city decorated for the wedding. The black war banners Castiel had seen before, had been replaced by purple ones with golden embroidery, hanging from the walls of the entrance hall and fluttering on street lamps and open windows. Everything was full of splendid colors and cheering people.

“You’ll be safe. The guard will make sure of that,” Victor promised ~~,~~ before he guided both Castiel and Charlie down the hall and into the open, where a chariot was waiting for them. And it wasn’t the kind of vehicle Dean had thrown Castiel into before. It was a huge wagon that was not drawn by horses, styled like the coaches Castiel knew, but made of intricately woven pale gold and silver and black. The top of it was made of glass, so once he and Charlie were sitting on the benches and Victor closed the door, Castiel couldn’t leave.

“Shh. Shh, calm down,” Charlie said, gently patting Castiel’s knee and he realized that he was breathing too quickly and darting his eyes around like a frightened animal. His wings were quivering, the sound of the rustling feathers loud in the new silence of the closed chariot.

“I don’t-“ Castiel frantically tried to explain to a worried Charlie, but then the chariot started humming and suddenly it moved. There was a man sitting outside, on the front, manning what looked like machinery and a steering wheel.

“What did you mean by this isn’t an alliance?” Charlie asked and when Castiel was still staring out at the masses of people that waved and cheered at them, she gave his knee a squeeze. “Hey!” Castiel’s eyes snapped back to her, finding a gentle expression on her face that somewhat calmed him down again. “The official announcement said that this is an alliance celebrating the new bond between our kingdom and yours. It said that the angels would receive Dean’s patronage and not lose any more of their lands to unnecessary warfare… Metatron is quoted to have said-“

“Patronage? I remember Dean threatening to kill all soldiers and take all women! I was just a sacrifice to avert his unwarranted wrath and cruelty!” Castiel said, more agitated than he’d been in a long time. “This is not an alliance! This is _not_ a marriage!” Castiel wasn’t pleased to see the effect his words had on Charlie. He didn’t like the wetness to her eyes, the pallor to her cheeks that made her red hair stand out even more. He was not happy about having to dash her naïve illusions, but he nearly sobbed in relief when he had spoken the words and Charlie took both of his hands again, holding him even when she had no words of solace to speak. The people outside where waving, pointing and cheering, but inside the chariot was silence.

* * *

 

Dean was pacing the space before the altar, the need to uphold the proper etiquette warring with the desire to go out once he heard the cheering of the crown. The cathedral he’d chosen for the wedding was splendid. All the solemnity of the place had been chased out by flags, tapestries and garlands of flowers. His entourage had followed his request to all dress in white, with little wreaths of thyme attached to their collars or woven into their hair. Even though he wasn’t sure what the meaning of it was, Dean knew that they were an integral part of ceremonies in angel territories. He had invited Castiel’s sisters to the ceremony but they had refused.

“We make no merriment out of the loss of our blood,” Rachel had said and Dean had been required to accept it. King Michael had sent a delegate to oversee that the wedding was valid, but Samandriel was keeping to the background, solemn like the statues of past kings surrounding him. He had been stripped of his sword and had agreed to have his Grace bound and while he had not even blinked at what Sam had objected to as a needless humiliation, being inside the church had made Samandriel’s wings flare in agitation. He disapproved of this wedding, Dean could see that, even though the angel had schooled his features into benevolent indifference.

“They’re coming,” Sam said, walking up the aisle towards Dean, lifting his finger high enough to give the choir behind the altar the necessary sign that they might start. Immediately the excited chatter was replaced by the playing of the orchestra and the song of the choir. Sam took his place next to Dean, but while Dean could hardly contain himself, Sam’s severe expression was a bit of a damper.

“I know it’s too late now to blow the entire thing off, but, Dean… I beg of you to reconsider the binding claim,” Sam whispered, unheard by the priest and the angel that waited a few paces away. Dean took his eyes away from the door for just a moment to glare at his brother. “That’s something you won’t be able to undo, Dean. Is this really the kind of relationship you want to have? One of servitude?”

“Cas’ll come round. He’ll get used to the castle and living among humans. And he’ll get used to me eventually,” Dean said calmly.

“And if he won’t?” Sam demanded to know, but Dean refrained from answering. “You never gave him a choice! Dean, don’t you see what you’re doing?” That wasn’t something he wanted to think about. Hell, maybe he didn’t need Castiel’s approval. He hadn’t been tossed before his feet to be his lifelong companion. This was politics. This wasn’t about Castiel himself. When Dean took him he had agreed to Michael’s negotiation. He couldn’t undo this now. Sam huffed in frustration next to Dean, but since he could see Victor approaching no further words were exchanged. Castiel was led down the aisle flanked by Victor and Charlie and followed by children tossing flowers into the air. Some of them caught in the wings Castiel kept close to his body, little flecks of color on the dark feathers. And he was stunning.

There was no fabric in Dean’s kingdom that matched the one Castiel’s robes were made of. The long dress hugged his figure and with every step it seemed to shine like moonlight reflected on water. The gold of his jewelry stood out against his pale skin and dark hair and the cape he wore had a high collar of feathers. Dean could stare at him for hours and he wouldn’t tire of looking at him, taking all the details of his beauty.

But Victor stood back and with him the children, while Charlie took hold of Castiel’s hand and guided him up to Dean.

It was not the radiant smile he got to see though; his sister was pale and wide eyed and while she tried his best to look supportive when she sought out Castiel’s gaze, she resisted putting Castiel’s hand into Dean’s waiting palm.

“We’ll talk about this,” she mouthed, but then she stepped back and took her designed place next to Sam. At least they wore matching faces of poorly concealed displeasure. Castiel didn’t look up, resolutely staring at Dean’s shoes. Dean’s hand closed around Castiel’s trying to stop the trembling. He pulled him close and gently brushed a kiss to Castiel’s forehead.

“We’re ready,” Dean said and the priest nodded, starting the sermon that Dean simply drowned out. He was staring into Castiel’s eyes, their blue mesmerizing as ever, brilliant, but distant as well. That was until the priest was filling a golden goblet with wine and Castiel raised his head, apparently sniffing the sweet scent. The exchange of wine was standard procedure, but the wine itself had been brought by Samandriel and the angel now stepped forwards to take the priest’s place. He bowed his head slowly, keeping down for a while and Castiel went rigid next to Dean, only his wings shaking slightly.

“Samandriel,” he whispered and the other angel straightened and slowly raised his hand to wave it over the goblet.

“King Michael sends this blessing from the fields of Elysium. May you become part of the garden and bear fruit for your husband to harvest,” he said and spoke a few words in the language of the angels that made the wine look like molten gold. Castiel lifted his hand to press it to his mouth, but Dean didn’t know if this was because of what Samandriel had said or for a different reason. Samandriel lifted the goblet and held it out towards Castiel. “He must now drink three small sips,” Samandriel explained, “and kiss you on the forehead after each one.” Dean was confused about that procedure, even though Sam had mentioned it, but he merely lowered his head a bit, so Castiel could reach him without having to stand on tip toes. The angel’s lips were warm and wet on his forehead. The smell of the wine sweet and inviting. After the third kiss Castiel took a small, shuddering breath and handed the goblet to Dean. He darted Samandriel a look and when he received a nod he did the same. He drank and kissed Castiel’s forehead and because he didn’t know what it meant he simply weaved a wish into each kiss.

“I wish for you to be healthy. I wish for you to be happy. I wish for us to be family.”

After the last kiss, Dean’s lips lingered on Castiel’s brow, but when he drew back he had blue eyes looking directly at him, wet and sad but warm now, no longer detached. By the time Dean turned back to the priest, Samandriel had already withdrawn, the angelic part of the ceremony completed. The priest nodded at them both and this was Sam and Charlie’s cue.

“This is the union of Dean, King of Winchester, and the angel Castiel, protégé of King Michael. We will also witness a coronation. Your Majesty, if you please.” Dean nodded and Sam placed the crown on his head. It was heavy and unsightly, a monstrosity that should depict wealth and archaic power that his father had been so proud of, but Dean had chosen to still wear it for the occasion. Charlie approached with a velvet cushion on which a much more beautiful diadem rested. He lifted it up and looked at Castiel.

“Kneel. Please,” he said and Castiel slowly sunk to his knees, the layers of his robe pooling around him and the wings brushing the floor. “By our marriage you will be made my queen.” Dean slowly lowered the diadem, until it comfortably rested on Castiel’s dark head. “You may rise, Queen of Winchester.” Castiel just blinked up at him, but with a little nudge he stood.

“King and Queen. Henceforth you will be tied together in matrimony. Silently exchange your vows please.” Dean stepped close to Castiel, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’ll promise that one day you’ll be happy with me. I promise to raise our children well. I promise to make sure that your family will be well cared for. I promise that we’ll make it work,” he whispered. Castiel was silent for a long time, probably unable to come up with words.

“I promise that I will do my best to find happiness,” he said at last and while Dean desperately wished for these words to mean what he wanted them to mean, he knew that Castiel’s mind was still beyond the walls of his city.

“Seal your bond with a kiss,” the priest said and Dean did just that. He grabbed Castiel’s waist and pulled him close. Chest pressing against chest and lips closing over lips.

And they were wed under the loud cheers echoing in the cathedral, Castiel tasting sweet and promising, but his eyes were moist and his tears bitter.

* * *

 

The same chariot that had carried Castiel to the cathedral now brought them back to the castle. The main hall had been furnished to hold the wedding celebration, a loud feast that was chaotic and merry, a striking contrast to the ceremonies in the church. The guests wore white, adorned with wreaths of thyme. Castiel was sure that Dean had tried to bring something of Castiel’s culture into their wedding and while he appreciated the thought that Dean put into the gesture, he was still sad about it. Samandriel, who had served under his late mother, had been gone too quickly to have conversation with. But his words, spoken in pretense of blessing the wine still brought the tears to Castiel’s eyes.

“Sweetheart?” Dean asked and Castiel wiped at his eyes, shaking his head. Dean smiled at him, covering Castiel’s hand with his own, before he handed him a plate with cake. “You should eat a bit more. Ellen really outdid herself.” Castiel took the cake silently and looked up to the woman he had been introduced to as Ellen. There had been so many people and so many names, but Castiel was sure that there was no point in remembering them all. If he could flee he wouldn’t see them anymore and if he couldn’t flee he would either die or be locked away in his prison forever.

_“Michael planted a new garden and named it after you.”_ Castiel dug his fork into the cake, but it tasted like ash on his tongue. _“He hopes you will bear the king many children and that one of them will be celestial enough to rise against your husband and free the kingdom.”_

“Cas! Castiel?” Castiel felt Dean shake his shoulder, hearing him faintly over his own loud breathing and the blood pounding in his ears. “Sam, water!” Castiel felt a cool towel dapped to his neck and to his forehead before the rim of the glass was pressed against his lips. “Drink this. Easy, easy.” Castiel took a few sips of the water and tried to calm his breathing. “Are you okay?” Castiel shook his head, trying to swallow past the panic that made it hard for him to breathe. Dean kissed his forehead, and then he helped him up. “Okay, I think you’ve had a long day. Let’s get you to bed.” At that Castiel balked, his wings flaring out and knocking something (and quite possible someone) over. The loud noise of shattering glass brought momentary silence to the entire hall, but Dean ran a hand through his feathers.

“He’s tired. I’ll bring him to our room,” Dean announced and the hall filled with noise again. “Don’t worry… I’ll return to the ceremonies to let you calm down…” Castiel looked up at Dean, seeing the  honest worry in his eyes and was momentarily stunned enough to just let himself be guided out of the hall and up a flight of stairs. He was still nervous by the time they arrived at the door to what must have been Dean’s chambers. The door opened to a big room with high walls and windows that let in the orange light of the evening. A big bed was standing against one wall, but Dean didn’t guide him there, instead he let him sit down in a leather armchair. Dean pulled the diadem off Castiel’s head and put it on the table next to the chair. He ran his fingers through his hair, gently rubbing his temples with his thumbs. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared,” was all Castiel managed to say and Dean knelt down in front of him.

“Cas… You don’t need to be scared. Everything will be fine. We’ll be happy,” he said and reached down to squeeze his hands.

“No,” he sobbed weakly. “You know I can’t.” The king didn’t say more, getting to his feet.

“I’ll have to go back to the ceremony. I’ll be with you in a few hours. If you need anything, just pull the chord and a servant will come and find you.” Dean walked up to the silken chord hanging next to the door, giving it a tug soft enough as not to set off the bell. Castiel just lowered his head.

“Enjoy yourself,” he managed to force past his lips and Dean smiled at him, then the door closed with a soft click.

Castiel exhaled loudly, his wings spreading out as he slumped in the chair. He was married. He always knew that this day would eventually come and he wasn’t all that shocked about it, but the fear of what awaited him once Dean returned made Castiel’s stomach turn.

Samandriel’s words were still making his heart beat frantically. Michael had forsaken him, he couldn’t return to the city, not with the weight of expectations pushing down on him now. But he had to try. Maybe if he could escape before Dean bound Castiel to himself for the rest of their lives Michael would reconsider. He knew it was futile. He knew that he had been cast out. But he didn’t know what to do. He had spent so many days trying to find a way back home the he couldn’t just give up.

He rose to his feet and stripped off the outer layers of his robes until he only wore the light tunic that covered his arms and reached to the middle of his thighs. He took a step, but there was already a heat forming low in his stomach. The wedding wine was taking its toll on him, far too quickly and far too intensely. His Grace was weakened and the uncomfortable feeling almost made Castiel stumble to his knees. He’d be ready for Dean once the King came back, easy for him to claim and breed, as had been Castiel’s fate all along. But it was too early and it was the wrong king in the wrong chambers.

Castiel looked to the windows where the sun was already dipping low, almost disappearing behind the trees in the distance, casting long shadows. Castiel saw his own shadow reaching as far as to the door, his wings flapping gently. They were still of use. Castiel took his sword from his hip, studying it. The windows were high up, but maybe his wings would carry him for long enough. He turned away from them for the moment and went to check the door. To his utter surprise the knob turned and opened up into the corridor. He could hear the sound of the festivities from down the hall. Dean must have forgotten to lock him in or had he left it open on purpose? Was this a test? Castiel hesitated, but this was a chance he couldn’t give up on. It was safer to walk and fly only when he had to. Even though the gifts his sister had bestowed on him would ascertain his ability to fly at least for a few miles, he’d rather not chance his luck because the wine was making him weak and desperate.

He slipped out of the king’s chambers and gently pulled the door close. He knew where the festivities were and it would be best to avoid getting close in case anyone saw him or Dean returned quicker than he said he would. But he didn’t know where taking the other side of the corridor would take him. He walked a few steps, but he was soon faced with the end of the hall and a staircase leading up. Castiel bit his lips and decided to take his chances. He walked back the way he had come, past Dean’s room and further along. The castle was very big and there were turnings and doors that seemed to lead to servant corridors. He didn’t have the time to try to find his way through the maze, so he followed the way he and Dean had come. The sounds of the festivities got constantly louder as he got closer to the stairs that would lead him down. When he reached them he put his hands on the banister, trying to contain his breathing. His legs felt wobbly and his heart was beating far too fast. Someone laughed loudly in the distance and there was the clatter of plates and cutlery as food was carried in and out. Castiel listened for footsteps, but when he heard nothing that seemed to approach he slowly made his way downstairs, trying to keep to the shadows. His wings felt heavy and he gave them a slight shake. He had to fly otherwise he would never get to his kingdom. He was almost down when he heard a door on the upper floor slam. He gave a start and nearly fell down the last few steps, but managed to catch himself. He waited at the foot of the stairs, not sure what to expect. His heart was hammering in his ribcage and he held his breath. But whoever had slammed the door, had not become aware of him missing. He waited another minute before he finally dared to move again. He knew that going right would lead him to the hall eventually and he could see servants where the corridor opened up. So he decided to go the other way. The sun was gone and the corridor wasn’t lit yet. It was still bright enough to see and Castiel turned to one of the windows. He was still not on the ground floor and the window showed out into a small courtyard, which held chariots, before it reached a wall that had an open gate. Castiel tried the window, but it was stuck. He tried to pull firmer, but it only rattled in the frame. Castiel huffed in desperation. His placed both of his palms on the glass. He wasn’t that weak, but the wine and the shock of absent Grace had diminished him. Still, he couldn’t turn around and look for another exit. He gave the window a mighty push. Nails that had held the glass to its frame were ripped out and it opened wide, letting in the cool air of the evening.

The noise made Castiel freeze, but seconds passed without another sound reaching his ears, so he climbed out of the window, reaching the roof of a shed. He turned around again to close the window. Then he started moving. The roof was uneven and his steps far from steady, but he ran over the roof, jumping to reach the next one. Some tiles came free and dropped to the courtyard below. A light went on somewhere above. He didn’t care what noises he made right now, he just needed to get away as far as possible before Dean noticed that he was gone. He tested his wings shortly, spreading them out to catch the wind when he was jumping down from the roofs. They pulled at the weakened muscles in his back, the ache making him groan, but they held. Castiel ran through the door, finding himself on the road which seemed to lead around the outskirts of the town. He wasn’t sure which way to go, he had absolutely no idea where his own kingdom lay. The Grace his home radiated was too faint to pick up on. He lifted his eyes to the sky, where the first stars were appearing. With their help he decided to follow the road that passed the village instead of taking the other that led to the forest. The road was deserted but he didn’t dare to slow down; it was a long open stretch even before he reached the houses and then he would have to stay unseen.

He had to stop once, close to a side gate in the city’s wall, to catch his breath. His wings felt like deadweight and running had become uncomfortable. The wine made him dizzy and disoriented and he contemplated resting for a bit longer, but then his ears picked up the noise of machinery. It was far away and not all that suspicious mingling with the sound coming from the celebrating city, but it still made him draw a deep breath and push on.

An open road was before him, the city at his back, by the time he heard the distinct noise of the machine again and this time he was sure that it wasn’t just any human invention being used by someone in the city. Of course, Dean wouldn’t come chase him on his human legs and not with horses either. Castiel squeezed his eyes shut as he ran. He had underestimated the weakness of his body, his superior strength slipping away fast so far from home.

He had to fly, he needed to spread his wings and go. The roaring was far too close, but when it suddenly stopped, Castiel looked behind him. He saw nothing in the fast setting darkness, but some of the houses’ windows lit up and provided a little bit light for him. Far too close Castiel could see an odd vehicle, but Dean was nowhere near it. Castiel spread out his wings, trying to flap them, but he was barely lifted up from the floor.

“Cas.” The single word, spoken calmly but sounding so loud in the silence, was all he heard, before he was face to face with Dean, some sort of fireless torch lighting up into Castiel’s face. He lifted his blade, but Dean was quicker, slamming his palm against Castiel’s chest. It was wet and by torchlight he could see how his white tunic was quickly turning red. Blood? He looked up at Dean, but he could only see Dean’s mouth move. His hearing and his vision were already fading and then he slumped forwards into Dean’s arms. “You shouldn’t have run, Cas,” he heard Dean whisper in his ears, then he felt nothing more.

* * *

 

Castiel felt like he was submerged under water. Every breath he took was labored and loud in his ears, the beating of his heart a slow steady pounding. Faintly he could see the blurred shapes of what might be people but looked like giant beasts. He knew that someone was carrying him, he felt the too strong grasp around him.

He wasn’t dead yet. He wasn’t dead but maybe this was what dying felt like. But instead of his senses becoming even more muddled they gained clarity the more seconds passed. He could see dark corridors, all shapes plunged into night. He could hear someone else’s breathing close to his ear, hot and heavy. A door opened and was slammed shut and Castiel had returned to his senses by the time he was lowered onto a soft bed. He could see the upper side of the canopy, dark blue with stars and constellations embroidered in gold and silver for just a moment before Dean was suddenly over him. His face was cast into shadows, but still his eyes stood out against the darkness. Castiel opened his mouth in a gasp or a sob, he wasn’t sure, but then Dean pushed his hands into Castiel’s open palms, squeezing them and sealing Castiel’s mouth with his own.

Castiel felt the numbness of having lost his battle against fate settle heavy into his very bones. Dean pushed his fingers against Castiel’s knuckles, then he dragged his palms down Castiel’s wrists, followed by the soft inside of his arms before he pulled at the bloodstained tunic. He didn’t tear it apart, but carefully opened each and every sash and tie. Castiel wanted to cry out.

What a waste! The robe of his dead mother was already soiled, what mockery it was to try to preserve it now. The garment came off and Castiel felt a cold blow of air against his too hot chest, even though there was still a light tunic shielding him against Dean. It was useless; nothing could protect him now from the demanding, punishing hands that would surely come to press against his feverish skin. But the bedsprings creaked and Dean was gone, disappearing through a door. Castiel couldn’t take this – why was Dean prolonging this dreadful anticipation? Castiel knew that soon enough Dean would come and force himself inside of Castiel to stake his final claim on him. The space between his legs throbbed, the fabric of his tunic sticking to his sweaty skin. Prompted by the angelic wedding wine, Castiel’s body craved the violence. But Castiel shivered and swallowed around the nausea. Should he make a last effort to escape? His legs wouldn’t carry him far and he had heard tales of what the wine could make people do. Castiel didn’t want to be reduced to an animal that craved any touch just to quell the pain and longing of his loins.

Before Castiel could make up his mind, Dean was sitting down on the bed again, startling Castiel. His wings flared out, almost getting tangled in the heavy fabric of the canopy. But Dean didn’t move towards him, he merely gazed at him, hands folded between his legs.

“You shouldn’t have left,” Dean said after a while, a silent observation, but his voice was quivering a bit.

“You left the cage open. Even a domesticated animal might try to fly,” Castiel replied hoarsely, his voice already thick with a mix of tears and the unwanted need that made him tremble in the effort to stay still.

“There’s nowhere you can fly to,” the king replied and through the delirious haze in his head the change of his voice almost didn’t register. Castiel squinted his eyes at Dean, finding the human’s steady gaze on him. His features were partially schooled into impassion, but the skin around his eyes was creased and they shone with pain and regret. “You’re no fool, Castiel. If you try to return to your kingdom you’ll risk being killed for treason by your own people.”

“I know,” Castiel sobbed and he pulled his knees up to his chest. When he felt the mattress shift he tensed and pushed his arms in front of him, even as he pressed his face against his knees. “No…! No please…!”

“Okay.” Dean’s voice was silent and still as far away as it had been before. Castiel pulled his arms a bit closer, but still keeping them up defensively as he sobbed, his wails muffled by his knees.

“The stunning spell should have worn off…,” Dean said after a while, when the wails had turned to infrequent, chocked sobs. Castiel’s eyes burned, his throat was raw and his lower body felt like it was filled by hot coals. Every muscle was coming loose, but quivered under the strain of Castiel’s fear and despair trying to keep his entire body taunt and in control. “It’s the wine, right? I don’t feel the effects but while I carried you I noticed that you were oddly wet and half-hard.”

“It’s a very old, dreadful tradition. It’s supposed to make the bonding easier. It weakens me and makes me burn and crave,” Castiel explained, his voice thick. He rubbed the back of his hand over a tearstained cheek.

“So you want me?” Dean asked, but he was too quiet and too calm and Castiel chanced to look at him. Dean was looking pensive, even the shred of hope he saw inside him dimmed cautiously by wariness.

“No, I don’t want you. I don’t want this bond forced upon me. I don’t. I want to go home.”

“I know, love… But you can’t go home,” Dean replied silently, but didn’t make a move to come closer. “I’ll ask Sam for something to take the craving’s edge off. For now just stay still. I’ll lock the door so you won’t bolt and get into more trouble. Try to relax,” Dean said and the words somehow didn’t make sense to Castiel. So he just stared at Dean, even after the man had stood up and left. The turning of the key was loud, a piercing noise in the overwhelming haziness. Castiel couldn’t relax though, even with Dean out of the room. He had no reason to believe that Dean would let him off now. Probably he thought it too easy to claim him now that he was almost begging for it. Or maybe he simply wanted to wait for that inevitable breaking point when Castiel would start to beg.

It wasn’t long before Dean returned, startling Castiel who was having a hard time holding on to coherent thoughts. Dean’s face was slightly flushed as he put a box down on the bed. Even from the distance Castiel could feel his body’s warmth and a radiant glow surrounded him, almost like Grace, just softer. He was beautiful, so beautiful and Castiel felt the pangs of desire like needles, jerking him out of his wine induced stupor. He winced, pressing his hands over his lap protectively.

“Shh… Shh, it’s okay Cas,” Dean said but he wasn’t touching him. Why wasn’t he touching him? “Sam made some quick research and he says that there’s a tonic he’ll brew for you that should cleanse you and wash the toxic out. But it’ll take a while and it’s best if you… You know, have an orgasm or three.”

“No… No, I don’t-“

“I’m not going to touch you,” Dean said sternly and Castiel looked up at him in startled confusion. “We’ll talk about this later, I’ll need you to focus on this, okay? I don’t want it to get worse.” Castiel looked at what he was pulling out of the box, his eyes widening. There was a vial of clear oily liquid and a smallish phallus shaped object which seemed to be made out of a hard material. “I don’t have any experience with this thing, but I think it’s pretty straight forwards where it’ll go. If you want to use it, do.”

“What…? Why…”

“Don’t worry. You won’t get soul bound to a sex toy,” Dean said with a slightly embarrassed chuckle. Castiel still had enough presence of mind to snort in annoyance.

“Obviously,” he said grouchily and Dean laughed, a clear and pleasant sound. Dean reached out for the toy and smeared some of the liquid over it, making the toy shine brightly. Castiel swallowed, squeezing his legs together. Dean held it out towards Castiel who hesitated before taking it.

“I think you can take it from here. I’ll leave you to it until the tonic is ready. It will take about 3 hours. Try to sleep a bit as well.”

“I won’t be able to sleep.” Dean got up, shrugging before he clapped his hands together.

“Well, how about you use that thing until I’m back?” Castiel still felt dumbstruck and unsure just what Dean was aiming at, but he nodded.

“Thank you,” Castiel muttered before Dean was out of the door. Dean pulled his lips up at one corner, then he was gone. Castiel couldn’t remember if he heard the lock turning or not.

* * *

 

 Castiel wasn’t naïve, he knew how to derive sexual pleasure from his own body. He had merely not been interested, even when his mother had encouraged him to do so, considering that eventually he’d have a husband who cared most about what his body could do and not what his body could feel. Castiel wished he had paid more attention. He wished he hadn’t been stubborn and thought that eventually King Michael would see his talent instead of just the value of his biology. He wished he had tried and asked his mother how to quench the insatiable thirst. Or how to stop himself from sobbing and shaking when the pleasure turned into pain but it still wasn’t enough.

The toy did do its service, even in Castiel’s clumsy fingers, but there was very little reprieve, his body ready for more than just this. Castiel cursed the wine and his body that craved a heavy weight on top of his. He wanted his feathers to be spread out and tugged and pulled, rendering them almost useless in careless, claiming fists. He wanted to feel someone inside of him, deeper and thicker than anything he had ever felt.

Castiel grabbed for Dean’s hand when he felt his cool palm on the back of his sweaty neck. Castiel turned around, feeling the fluid between his legs and the tunic sticking to his sweaty body. It was hard for Castiel to focus on Dean’s face when everything was too clear, too bright.

“Castiel,” Dean said and Castiel snapped out of it, letting Dean’s hand go at once and sitting up, partially hiding behind the curtain of Dean’s bed. Dean didn’t comment on the state of his bed or Castiel himself and Castiel didn’t have the strength or the patience to be embarrassed. “Here’s the tonic. I hope it’ll help, the least it’ll do is help you sleep.” Castiel looked down at the mug in Dean’s hands. He took it carefully, smelling it. He doubted that Dean would choose to poison him at this point and Castiel was certain that no human poison would be able to bring him death anyway. The tonic was refreshing and tasting of herbs. He wondered what was in it and how Sam even knew of this sort of draught, but he didn’t question it. He felt the liquid go down his throat, settling cool and soothing in his stomach. He instantly felt less hot and sighed in relief.

“Just roll over to the unsoiled part of the bed. We’ll get the sheets changed tomorrow.” Dean’s voice barely got through to Castiel, who was starting to feel tired and languid. He did roll over though, breathing in the cleaner smell of this part of the bed. “You might feel sore and nauseous tomorrow,” was the last thing Castiel heard, falling asleep to the sound of Dean’s voice and his grounding scent in his nose.


	3. Chapter 3

Birdsong and the first bright rays of sunshine woke Castiel from a deep and dreamless slumber. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, but when he tried to move, a sharp pain went through his body. He tried to roll over and his outstretched hand landed on soiled bed sheets. He pulled it back at once, startled and disgusted. The motion pulled at the fabric of his clothes that clung to his skin, tugging almost painfully. Castiel still wore his tunic and it stuck to his body uncomfortably. He was struggling to sit up when he heard the door opening. Dean came in, a robe wrapped around himself, bleary eyed, with tousled hair.

“Morning.” He suppressed a yawn, shuffling over to open the windows. Fresh air and more light streamed into the room. Castiel watched Dean move about, opening curtains and windows, pulling clothes out of wardrobes and drawers. The effects of the wedding wine had worn off completely and with a clear mind, Castiel couldn’t help but continue being wary of Dean’s motives.

“I’m dirty,” Castiel spoke up to catch his attention and Dean turned around, buttoning up his shirt. Dean didn’t mock him, he merely nodded and walked into the adjoining bathroom. Castiel heard the water running a second later. Dean’s face was wet and scrubbed pink when he came back out. He poured some water into a glass and held it out for Castiel. Castiel eyed it suspiciously, but he was thirsty and grateful for the cool water.

“The bath should be ready in a couple of minutes,” Dean told him. Castiel slowly moved his legs over the edge of the bed, feeling pain throbbing everywhere in his body.

“I doubt I can move,” Castiel replied and Dean studied him at that. Castiel wondered what Dean saw now that he almost had him just where he had always wanted him.

“I can carry you and wash you,” Dean suggested but Castiel tensed immediately at the suggestion.

“No,” he said, aware that this word held very little power in this kingdom. To his surprise though, Dean nodded and Castiel looked at him in confusion.

“I can get you a maid.”

“No maid,” Castiel told him, unwilling for them to see him like this and give them more reasons for disapproval. Dean didn’t seem angry at Castiel’s refusal.

“What about Charlie? If she assisted you, would that be alright?” Castiel tilted his head slightly, but after a while he gave a tentative nod. Dean showed him a small smile, before he turned towards an armchair where he had put a pile of clothes. He held a long moss green shirt out to Castiel. It was made of very soft cotton, well-worn and smelling of him. Castiel looked up at Dean, finding that he was being studied. He didn’t want to get undressed in front of him and he was pretty sure that the king understood his hesitation.

“I’ll get Charlie.” Dean closed the door behind him with a soft click, but there was no sound of a lock being shut. Castiel waited for a few moments, anticipating the door to be thrown open again with a sudden change of heart, but when nothing happened his shoulders slumped slightly. He peeled his ruined tunic off, letting it drop to the floor. He then pulled the shirt over his body, every movement tinted with pain and excruciatingly slow as if he moved his limbs through murky water. He wasn’t sure if these were the effects of the tonic. He vaguely remembered Dean warning him about it.

Castiel could hear Charlie and Dean arriving long before the door was opened. They were talking loudly despite the still rather early hour of the day. Dean hissed something and the voices dropped considerably. Charlie’s stern face, which Castiel caught a glimpse of just as the door revealed the siblings, was quickly replace by a forced smile.

“Hey Castiel,” Charlie greeted, then she walked to the bed, her eyes never straying too far from Castiel’s own. Castiel understood; neither he nor the bed were in a very presentable state. “Is it okay if I help you wash?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied and Charlie gently reached out, pulling him into a standing position. He winced as the pain grew in intensity with the first few steps he forced himself to take, but as he leaned more heavily on Charlie and the initial surprise had worn off, it was easier to make his way to the door. All that time Dean refrained from speaking or moving, but just before Charlie closed the door after Castiel, he heard him pulling the sheets from the bed, but he didn’t utter a sound.

“I’m sorry… I heard you tried to escape. I wish you had succeeded,” Charlie blurted out as she tested the water temperature. There might be little point in wishing for things to have gone differently, but Castiel nodded in appreciation. “You’re…” Castiel looked down on himself when Charlie’s eyes remained stuck to his naked feet. “Uh… Maybe you should soak in the water for a bit. I’ve got scented stuff and,“ she pulled a vial out of a small pouch she carried on her hip, “this is something that might help you… I mean… For your private parts…” Charlie set the vial on the rim of the large china tub, then she opened the cap of a glass bottle and emptied most of it into the water. Back at home they’d had lavish baths, with scents and oils and burning herbs, but there never had been such an abundance of bubbles.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Castiel asked warily and dragged his hand through the foam. A sweet flowery scent spread in the room while Charlie was running her hand through the water hidden by the bubbles.

“Yes, Cas,” she said with a chuckle, then she straightened and nodded her head towards the bath. Castiel took the hint and when he struggled with the shirt Charlie reached out to help him get it off. The princess kept a straight face when she assisted Castiel in getting into the bath. The water was hot, but not hot enough to be uncomfortable, and the scented bubbles tickled his skin gently above the water’s surface.

The pain slowly started to ease away as he allowed himself to relax. While Castiel closed his eyes, concentrating on just his even breathing, Charlie got to work. She gently poured warm water over his head, wiping at his skin with a soft towel. The evidence of what had happened to him the night before was slowly washed away under the hands of his husband’s sister. Charlie worked her fingers swiftly through Castiel’s wings, clumsy but still gentle.

“It’s a bit icky to get into close contact with Dean’s spunk,” Charlie muttered, but before Castiel could turn his head, she blurted out an apology. “That wasn’t very thoughtful of me, considering that you...”

“None of the fluids on me are your brother’s,” Castiel said, now turning his head to find Charlie’s face change from disgruntled to surprised. “We didn’t have sex.”

“What? But I… I thought he’d… Well… I never wanted to believe that Dean would be so terrible as to rape you, really. He’s a good guy, but… But he was so obsessed with you and having you that I thought… that he wasn’t such a good guy after all and-“ Charlie’s face was pale and she was visibly uneasy, so Castiel reached out to put his palm against her cheek.

“He didn’t even spend the night in this room,” Castiel assured her even though he would not agree that this made Dean particularly good, but Charlie seemed to be grateful to hear it. “I don’t understand why he didn’t… He rarely showed any concern for my wishes.” That wiped the smile off the princess’ face again. She lowered her head and started cleaning Castiel’s back.

 “I’m really sorry… I feel so bad about what we’ve done to you. And to the angels as well, but especially to you…” she said after a while, rinsing oil out of Castiel’s hair. “I don’t know what Dean was thinking. Maybe he doesn’t even know himself… But maybe he came to his senses after you tried to escape.” Castiel busied himself with cleaning himself and just shook his head at her. Charlie’s sigh was a cool puff of air against his wet neck and he heard her shuffle back. “Can I leave you for a moment? You’ll need fresh clothes.” Castiel turned to look over his shoulder. “And maybe you should use the ointment while I’m out… Even if you didn’t have sex with Dean, you apparently are still sore from what you did. Well, I… uh. I can help you, but maybe…”

“I can do it on my own, thank you, Charlie.” The princess nodded, then she let herself out of the bath. Castiel had expected to hear Dean’s voice the second Charlie exited, but it was silent. Castiel slowly rose out of the cooling water and sat down on a low wooden bench that stood under a window. He took the vial and uncorked it. The substance within was odorless and had a texture like partially molten butter. He poured some on his fingers and carefully rubbed them against the rim of his hole. He had expected it to sting, but the burn was dulled almost immediately. Still being an angel his healing was better than that of a human, but so far from home the process was slowed. He was glad to lower the pain this way.

He was done by the time Charlie knocked and let herself in again.  
  
“Okay?”

“Yes, much better,” he agreed and Charlie looked him up and down, then she helped Castiel get dressed. Soft trousers and a light shirt and slippers that felt warm and fluffy on his feet.

“It’s quite amazing,” Charlie muttered, softly petting Castiel’s wings. He looked over his shoulder, finding Charlie looking at his back. “I mean… How your wings fit through the fabric? It doesn’t make sense.”

“That’s because they’re not entirely a part of the physical world. They alter the atoms of the fabrics to make way for them. It takes energy though and I don’t have much of it to spare.”

“I’m sure Dean’ll get you your own clothes with openings for your wings, if you ask him.”

“I don’t think I want to ask him for anything,” Castiel told her and it sounded more bitter than he had intended. Charlie looked up at him.

“I guess I understand, but you could try to demand things,” she suggested. “I don’t know how bad Dean feels about this all, but I’m pretty sure that you could take advantage of his guilt or at least his infatuation.” Castiel contemplated this, feeling the damp, warm air around them cool slowly.

“I’m slightly surprised that you suggest such a move against your own brother,” he confessed, which made Charlie chuckle.

“Look, in the end it’ll be for the best. And Dean won’t be massively hurt if his husband bosses him around a bit. That’s the least he should allow. Especially since he crowned you.” Castiel wasn’t convinced about what he was being told, but Charlie reached out to squeeze his hand. “You are a king now – or… Queen. Whatever. And I think it’s up to you to decide what kind of queen you want to be.” Castiel raised an eyebrow, but only saw Charlie smirk. He tried to smile a bit and she patted his shoulder encouragingly. Castiel left the bathroom after her, very reluctant to leave the foggy, wet warmth of it behind to get back into Dean’s bedroom. When he did set foot into it again, it was decidedly different. The windows were wide open and the air was clean and fresh. The sheets had been changed and Dean was sitting at his table, turned around in his chair to listen and even though he had been talking to Charlie, his eyes were now on Castiel, tracking his every move.

“Dean, stop that,” Charlie said with a snort and Castiel shuffled to the couch next to the open window. He looked out of it, seeing swallows soar through the air and people milling about in the gardens below. “Okay, if anything’s up, get me.” Silence fell upon the room when the door clicked shut. The birds chirped outside. Dean tapped his fingers on the wood of the writing table and while it didn’t really upset Castiel he turned around and tried a very simple order:

“Please quit drumming your fingers.” And Dean did, muttering a soft apology. Castiel narrowed his eyes slightly and Dean looked up at him.

“How are you feeling?” Dean wondered and Castiel heaved a sigh, leaning back against the cushions.

“Physically? Fine,” he said and Dean lowered his head slightly, but didn’t take his eyes off Castiel. “Otherwise I’m confused and scared.”

Dean shook his head. “I know I didn’t give you lots of reason to believe me, but you don’t have to be scared.” Castiel didn’t think it wise to test the king’s patience too much, but he still couldn’t help snorting at that, turning his eyes away to look out of the window. Watching the swallows soar through the air with grace and effortlessness made Castiel’s wings give a twitch. “Cas…”

“I don’t understand you, Dean… You wanted me and you almost had me. And I don’t understand what changed.”

“Nothing changed, you’re-“ Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“So I have every reason to be afraid of you,” he snapped and Dean shut up immediately, his expression contrite. The chirping of birds and the far away noises of people talking were the only sounds between them for a while.

“That’s not what I meant. I still want you. I want us to be together and I want you to be happy,” Dean said after a while.

“I’ve been telling you that I can’t be happy like this,” Castiel told him and Dean merely shook his head. Castiel had no idea what it meant.

“Cas, I thought you understood… You can’t go home,” Dean tried to explain, folding his hands in his lap. 

“Because you hold me here. You didn’t bind my soul to yours, for which I am grateful, but you still won’t let me go.” Dean lowered his head, until his forehead was close to his knees and his thumbs rested over his brows.

“How about,” Dean started, his voice muffled and rough, “you wait for a while. Until you’re properly recovered.”  He lifted his head slightly, just enough to be able to glance at his husband. “You’re free to go wherever you want in the castle and the town.” The _please don’t leave me_ might not have been spoken, but Castiel saw it in his defeated posture and the helplessness in his eyes. Castiel couldn’t help feeling a pang of some emotion he wasn’t sure how to name. A pain deep in his chest that stung sharply and then continued to settle in his stomach.

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, because there was no point in trying to run away now in the condition he was in. He was still sore and exhausted and he had to plan his return a bit more cleverly. He couldn’t just leave and hope to be received with open arms when they still sang his dirge. And he could not risk more political tension. He’d have to talk to his sisters.

Some spirit returned to the king and he got up, a small smile on his lips. Castiel didn’t mean to, but his wings gave a little twitch, even though his body remained rigid. Dean noticed so he refrained from advancing.

“Do you want your own room?” The question surprised Castiel and he looked around Dean’s chambers. “I don’t want to chase you out of here. I’d love for you to stay, but I think you might need private chambers where you can retreat to.”

“Yes, I’d like that.” Dean’s face fell minutely, but he quickly hid his disappointment.

“Sam’s in charge of the rooms, he’ll take you around the castle and you choose what you like best. Take anything you need,” he continued and Castiel nodded. They watched each other for a while, both silent and even though the atmosphere was tense, Castiel wasn’t terribly afraid. “Uh… You don’t have to sit in here, you know?“

„Where else could I be?“ Castiel answered and Dean looked up at him. He got up from the chair and adjusted his clothes a bit.

“Are you hungry? We could get breakfast,” Dean suggested. Castiel nodded and Dean held out his hand to him. Castiel only studied it with a small frown. Dean was already lowering it again by the time Castiel finally lifted his own. Dean’s hopeful smile lit up his entire face and he pulled Castiel to his feet, but took a step back when they were both standing, giving Castiel space.

Castiel did not understand what it meant.

* * *

 

Dean was explaining the layout of the castle and which corridor and door would get him where as they made their way down to a warm room. It wasn’t the dining hall they had sat in before. There was a sturdy wooden table with comfortable chairs and a bench with heaps of cushions on it. Sam was sitting there, a book open in front of him and not even taking notice of them until Dean cleared his throat. Sam snorted, but he did lift his eyes after a moment. When he noticed Castiel he gave a start, bumping into the table as he got up.

“Oh! Castiel! Good morning!”

“Well, good morning to you too, little brother,” Dean said with a snort, stepping away from Castiel to reach a smaller table filled mugs and plates, jars and pans. His palm brushed over Castiel’s lower back as he stepped away. Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, then he motioned towards a free chair, handing Castiel a soft looking pillow.

“Why don’t you take a seat? How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Castiel replied, still a bit unsure about Sam. They hadn’t had the chance to talk to each other yet though if Castiel understood correctly, Sam was a bit more knowledgeable about Castiel’s home. “Thank you for the tonic. It helped.”

“I’m glad it did. Much of what I knew about the wine was from old books.” Sam, for all his size, seemed quite gentle and shy. There was nothing violent or hostile about him and somehow Castiel was put at ease. He took a seat and promptly received a plate piled high with food and two mugs with steaming drinks from Dean.

“Is that food okay? I wanted to import produce from your home, but I didn’t think it wise early after the war. But we managed to get a few barrels of water,” Sam explained and Castiel looked up from his tea with surprise.

“What’s so great about water?” Dean asked, taking a seat next to Castiel, but leaving him enough room.

“Some of our water is blessed. It won’t make a difference to humans, but there are miniscule amounts of Grace in it. It helps our wings and the circulation of Grace within us,” Castiel explained.

“So that’d make your wings stronger?” Dean wondered curiously, cutting pancakes apart. Castiel nodded and Dean hummed. “They weren’t strong enough to fly with yesterday, were they? Otherwise you might have managed to escape.” And like that a tense silence claimed the room. Sam scraped his fork along the plate uncomfortably. Castiel could hear Dean’s knee hitting the table and he hissed. “Sam!”

“That was an odd binding ritual you used on me,” Castiel said since now the topic had already been raised. They might as well talk it through. “I thought you meant to kill me.”

“Kill you?” Dean wheezed, his eyes wide. “No! I just wanted to hold you back! I know that we humans are far weaker than you; magic was the only way to stun you long enough to prevent you from flying off.”

“Since humans are the weakest of the creatures that inhabit this continent we have quite a range of protective magic,” Sam explained, then he narrowed his eyes and glared at Dean, “it’s meant to be used defensively not twisted into something that can be used to attack.” Dean groaned as Sam’s voice rose continually.

“Sam, we’ve been through this already-“

“Why did you attack us?” Castiel asked, interrupting Dean and making silence fall immediately. “It came out of the blue. You didn’t even send a declaration of war.”

“It was a strategic decision,” Dean said silently and Castiel lowered his eyebrows.

“It rather seemed like it was the decision of a spiteful boy who was made king too early,” Castiel retorted and felt some sense of satisfaction when Dean looked taken aback. Sam bit back a snort, but even though he seemed pleased that Castiel talked back to Dean, there was something sad about his face as well.

“I’m 26, I’m not a boy,” Dean replied tensely and Castiel saw his knuckles around the handle of his cup turn white. Maybe it was wisest to not enrage him further.

“How old are you anyway, Castiel?” Sam was trying to defuse the situation but all of them knew that this conversation was bound to happen eventually.

“I was born in the year humans first set foot on these lands.” Dean lifted an eyebrow at that, while Sam’s entire face lit up.

“You look pretty young for someone who’s been around for over 500 years,” Dean said, refilling Castiel’s cup with tea. “I’ve read that you age irregularly, especially the fertile ones.”

“That’s true… most of us reach maturity faster, so that there are more years in which we can bear children,” Castiel explained and while Dean didn’t look particularly interested, Sam certainly was eager to learn more.

“Now that you’re here, does your kingdom still have the means to reproduce?” he wanted to know and Castiel sighed, turning the warm cup around in his fingers. “Have we doomed your species?”

“I don’t know. There were others, but the war has claimed at least 3 and that’s a huge blow. It might take centuries before there will be new children even though they will be sorely needed after the war has cost so many lives.” Castiel said and turned to look at Dean. “We weren’t prepared. We couldn’t protect ourselves.”

“We only attacked your soldiers!” Dean retorted, his previously pale face now heating. If it was anger or guilt wasn’t clear to Castiel, but he didn’t particularly care.

“You didn’t just attack our soldiers. Your attack turned everyone into a soldier that still remembered a time before our hard-won peace,” Castiel hissed, then he pushed his breakfast away and rose. Sam did the same, his expression quite aghast. But Dean remained sitting, his eyes hard as he returned Castiel’s stare. “Sam? I hate to interrupt your breakfast, but would you show me around? I need a room.” Sam was quick to walk around the table, but he gave Dean’s shoulder a squeeze before he followed Castiel out of the room. Castiel didn’t know where he was going, but Sam just followed wordlessly until Castiel’s steps came to a halt. He was in a familiar corridor, the window where he had made his escape next to him. It hadn’t been repaired yet. It shouldn't be necessary for him to remember it as a way for a second escape. If Dean’s words were true then there were no more locked doors for him. He could stroll out of the castle and nobody could hold him back. But maybe talking to Dean like before wouldn’t really win him the king’s favor. What had he been thinking? Castiel sighed and leaned against the cool glass, his wings slumping.

“I’m sorry…” Sam said and Castiel looked up at him. “I know it means little now that everything is done, but I regret not having opposed Dean more strongly. His reasons to go to war had little to do with the angels. It’s the demons he wants to destroy and since King Michael wouldn’t let him pass through his country or aid him, he attacked you first.”

“I still don't understand. If he wanted to go to battle he shouldn't have risked his army's strength and as far as I know he hasn't advanced to wage war on demon territory,” Castiel said, dragging his nail along the splintered wooden frame of the window.

“No... He can't do that now. He is financing human settlements in your home and the rebuilding of everything the war has destroyed. Your capital it weakened and easy to attack. Also, Dean had to deal with the marriage preparations. Some things didn’t go according to plan. _You_ weren’t part of the plan.” Sam sighed heavily. “I don't know when he'll go to battle, but I just know he will,” Sam explained and Castiel frowned. If that was true then going back home would be made more difficult. There would be humans everywhere and the situation in the kingdom would be tense, maybe even hostile. Sam interrupted Castiel's thoughts: “I agree with you though. It wasn't wise and those weren't the acts of a good man or a good king. But Dean is... He _can_ be good. I know he'll have to prove it, but-” Castiel reached out to grab Sam's hand. He didn't say anything but it was enough to calm Sam down. He swallowed and nodded. “I apologize. I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with his actions. I know he is my king, but first of all he's my brother...” Sam took a few moments to compose himself, looking out of the window into the courtyard. “We should go look for a room for you. I have something in mind you might like,” he said after a while and Castiel gladly followed him. Their talk about more important topics was postponed, but Castiel was sure that he'd soon see Sam again. He somehow felt himself looking forward to it.

* * *

 

The rooms that Sam suggested and Castiel ultimately chose lay in a part of the castle that wasn't generally visited by the royal family members. He had a sitting room, a study, a bath and his bedroom, all conveniently connected by big doors.  Moving the furniture had taken Sam and Castiel almost the entire day because both didn't feel the need to disturb the easy silence between them with the presence of other people. The rooms where still a bit dusty and unadorned, but they were his now. Castiel felt his heart skip a beat when Sam handed him a set of keys and he locked the door after himself for the first time. He didn't have to open them to anyone. Castiel strode through the room, his steps muffled by the soft carpet, until he reached his writing desk. Sam had insisted on stocking it, even though there was very little Castiel could do with all the parchment and envelopes. He sat down anyway and looked at the contents. There was a little leather bound booklet and when Castiel opened it, he found it to be instructions on how to get his letters delivered to almost anywhere. It had seemed almost impossible to reach Hester or Rachel, but apparently the humans were quick in adapting their networks. If they didn't refuse his letters he could start communicating with them, maybe even King Michael could be reached. The thought cheered Castiel up and he decided to pen a letter after he went for dinner. Sam had told him that while he could get his food delivered to his own rooms, they'd really appreciate him coming down if he felt comfortable. Castiel certainly didn't feel entirely comfortable with this, but he knew that the Winchesters considered him part of their family, weird as it was for Castiel. He was sure that Sam and Charlie would understand if he didn't join them, but he was grateful for their help so it seemed only polite to attend. He got up and looked through the contents of his wardrobe and settled on something that didn't seem too simple but not all too overbearing either. The simplicity of the dress was contrasted by the quality of the fabric that felt soft on Castiel's skin and had a light floral pattern in a pale silver thread.

When he reached the dining room, none of the royal siblings was present yet, but Sir Benny was drinking from a cup. He still remembered him as the man who had guided him to his room on the first day and Dean had made quite an effort to introduce them again during the wedding festivities. Castiel had been too distracted then to exchange pleasantries but he did remember the sincere, almost regretful eyes of this knight.

“Good evening,” Castiel greeted and Benny rose from the chair.

“Good evening to you too, Your Majesty,” he said, “you are early, dinner will be served in half an hour. Charlie is still being tutored,” he explained.

“I see,” Castiel muttered, momentarily at a loss what to do, but he found there to be cups and all sorts of jars on the table that had housed breakfast earlier today. It was a welcome distraction. “Is that tea?”

“Oh, yes. And coffee as well,” Benny said and joined Castiel at the table, waiting silently as Castiel read all the labels until he settled on black tea. Benny poured hot water out of a metallic container, the water still steaming hot.

“My mother loved tea with milk and honey,” Castiel said, though he wasn't sure what made him share this personal information. Maybe it was the familiar heat of the cup in his fingers, or the sweet scent of the tea in his nose. Sentimentality was usually not a big part of Castiel's character, but the pain of his loss was still fresh and while it hurt he tried to hold onto the memories of his family the best he could.

“I have heard you lost family members in the war. Was your mother among the dead?” Benny's voice was gentle and Castiel nodded silently. It was strange to be standing next to tea and to display fractions of something as private as his emotions but still feel calm. “Before we took your city,” Benny said and they sat down at the table. Benny stopped and looked at Castiel. “Please, if this topic upsets you, stop me at any moment.” Castiel nodded. “I was wounded. Nothing grave. But the battle around your frontier was fierce. Maybe you weren't expecting us, but you defended yourselves spectacularly. As I said, I was wounded and delirious, so Dean sent me home. But I saw the battle field. The grass was dark with blood and burnt in the imprints of wings.” Castiel turned his eyes towards his tea, unable to look at Benny any longer. “I have never seen Sam wail this hard since he lost his parents... He refused to even look at me when I told him about the fires that I had seen when I was being driven away. He wouldn't explain but I understood then that we had done something terrible in our ignorance.”

“It's a disgrace,” Castiel said, swallowing down the nausea. “We angels are all connected through the Grace that is bestowed upon us. It flows from the great tree of Eden. Through the water, the soil, the very air we breathe. And every angel has their own song woven into it, a gentle vibration in the tapestry of the host. When someone dies we hear it. But the song doesn't stop, it echoes on and we are soothed and won't ever forget. But if an angel is murdered, if its body is torched by an enemy, it's like a...” Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, recalling the death of his brothers. It had been as if an icicle had been slammed through Castiel, a deadly cold pain that had expanded like poison in his mind. He hoped that Benny understood even if he couldn't bring himself to explain. Castiel looked at him, finding the knight contemplative, his expression grim, but he didn't look away. “I didn't know that humans could be such barbarians. That you wouldn't even honor the dead and what is sacred to us.”

 “Me neither, Your Majesty. But this war has shown me what we are capable of. I can't even fault Sam for his cold treatment of me or Dean. And I don't even deserve to sit in your presence.”

“You do,” Castiel said. “You won the war, but you're no coward. You recognize what you did wrong and seem to be willing to face it.” Benny snorted humorlessly, but he raised his glass to Castiel.

“You're my queen now. I will try my very best to be at your service. God knows that I need to do penance for this war.” Castiel raised his cup to him in acknowledgment.

Castiel was grateful, even though he thought himself a bit of a fool to be ready to forgive him. This man had aided in the destruction of his family, his culture and his own life. But still, he felt no anger, only deep regret. And neither Sam nor Charlie caused him great grief. With Dean it was different. Dean he didn't understand. He didn't know why he had led his armies into battle or why he had been as terribly destructive as he was. He didn't know where all that anger and contempt for his race had come from, neither whether he really had any regard for Castiel. Castiel didn't want to forgive a man such as him. He didn't want to believe in anything he said or did. He had spared him from being forever bound to him, but that was a small mercy considering what suffering he had caused.

Castiel was deep in his thoughts by the time Sam came in to set the table. Castiel was mildly surprised that it wasn't done by servants, but considering the private affair this dinner was it wasn’t all that odd. Dean sat down next to Castiel with a greeting which Castiel returned with a nod of his head. The king's proximity, especially after the talk he had with Benny, made his wings tense up.

“Here, this soup was made with the water we imported,” Sam said, handing Castiel a bowl. The soup smelled nice and was delicious but the effect it had was the most welcome. The Grace within the water the soup had been made with was very faint, but still strong enough for Castiel to pick up. It felt warm in his stomach and Sam refilled his bowl twice.

“It's odd. Do you like it? It just tastes odd,” Charlie said, trying it when Castiel had finished his third bowl and happily ate some bread.

“Does it? I think it was one of the best things I have been served so far,” he said and Charlie's face lit up.

“Really? Do you think so? I'm glad!” she said and Castiel realized that Charlie must have made the soup herself.

“Really. Thank you Charlie,” he insisted and the princess beamed at him.

“I'll tell them to ship more barrels of water then. The seeds have arrived but the earth is hard to till so it'll take the settlement a while before it can deliver vegetables and fruit,” Dean said.

“Are you trying to use the lands?” Castiel asked with his brows drawn together. Dean looked at him, surprised by the displeasure in Castiel's voice.

“Of course. The land is empty but I think it can bear fruit to sustain the settlement. Your city is well-stocked, but there's nothing wrong with growing more food,” Dean told him and while Castiel found no fault with the logic of that statement, he couldn't help being unhappy. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Castiel said and stared at his hands on the table. Nobody said anything for a while, uncertainly seeking each other's eyes for a clue of what to do. But in the end it was Dean who broke the silence with a sigh.

“Meet me later on in my chamber and you can tell me privately what ails you about the situation,” he offered. Castiel pressed his lips together but didn't want to refuse him in the presence of his siblings and knight. He therefore had no other choice but to nod and hope to make it short. Dean smiled at him, the frown of before gone. “Don't we have pie?” Dean asked and the conversation was re-kindled, even though Castiel chose to remain silent for the rest of it.

* * *

 

Dean didn't ask him to come with him when dinner was over and Castiel was still sitting there with a tea that had grown cold. He also didn't remind him to come and see him.

“If you like tea you can have it in your sitting room,“ Dean suggested when he rose. Sam was still around, clearly only staying in the room so that Castiel didn't have to be alone with Dean. Castiel didn't reply. Dean reached out, carefully setting his hand on Castiel's shoulder and squeezing once when he wasn't shaken off. „You know where I am in case you need me. Good night.“ And with that he left the room, Sam also wishing him a good night not long after. Castiel sat in the empty room now, the settling darkness of night kept at bay by artificial lights, at a bit of a loss. After some contemplation he rose and put a new pot of tea on a tray, adding some little cakes for dessert. On a second thought he took a second cup with him. Castiel was slow to understand the layout of Dean's castle, having spent most of his stay here imprisoned, but he found his way back to the corridor where Dean's room was, having to ask a slightly jittery servant just once.

Here it was darker, the remaining light doing little to replace the brightness of the halls Castiel had been in before. The sound of his steps was muffled by the carpet covering the wooden floor and he contemplated turning around. Nobody would realize it after all, he was silent and unseen. But even though he felt a heavy weight on his chest, he continued on. He didn't want to constantly be afraid of any confrontation. He knocked on the door and waited. He recalled being a child, standing in front of the big and always closed door leading to his father's rooms. How he had brought tea but was never allowed to linger. His mother had been kinder, more interested in him and less detached. Castiel snapped out of his thoughts when he heard steps on the other side of the door. He straightened, making the tea cups clatter gently when he stirred. Dean seemed tired when he opened the door, his face slightly pale, but he started smiling immediately after getting over his surprise.

“Oh, Cas! Here, let me take this,” he said, taking the tray out of Castiel's hands. “I didn't think you'd come.” Castiel followed Dean into the room, leaving the door ajar when Dean didn't ask him to close it.

The room hadn't changed but it still smelled fresh and everything was clean. Dean put the tray on a table that had a pair of armchairs next to it. Dean gestured towards one of them and Castiel joined him at the table.

“I didn't want to at first...,” Castiel said but didn't elaborate. Dean poured them both tea, then he leant back in the chair to look at him.

“Do you want to talk about the settlement?” Dean asked, not demanding an explanation. Castiel nodded.

“I understand the strategic value of a human settlement close to the city boundaries, but I still cannot approve.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean said and Castiel looked at him with surprise on his face. Dean laughed hollowly. “What? Do you take me for an idiot? You're an angel and we took your land, of course you're not gonna like it. But if I want to strengthen my position I need it. We're keeping an eye on Michael even though we expect no overt attack because of the treaty. Our main objective is to have a half-way post towards the sulfurous lands.”

“So you're still going to march against the demons?” Castiel asked, then scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “Why?” Dean put down his tea cup and frowned at Castiel.

“Why? Because I lost my family to them!”

“So revenge then?” Castiel asked rather coolly and Dean gave a start, surprised by Castiel's expression. “By that line of thought it would be justifiable for me to stab you in your sleep.”

“Cas...”

“You killed _my_ family, Dean. What's the difference between you and the demons who caused your pain?” Dean didn't say anything to that, he merely rested his elbows on the table, bending down to put his forehead in his hands. For a long time there was tense silence that had Castiel dig his nails into the armrests.

“I fucked up,” Dean muttered, his voice hoarse. “I still think Michael deserved it, but I should have led a different battle. I get that now, but I can't undo it.” Castiel didn't deem this worthy of a comment. “I'm sorry, Cas, that your family died,” Dean said and Castiel saw his hand approach his, but he put it down on the table top instead. Castiel looked up into his face and he could see his pain and his guilt. He appeared to be honest, but Castiel didn't trust his ability to read the human and even if it was true, it didn't change the reality of his loss. “Were you close to your family?”

Taken aback by the question Castiel looked up at him.

“What does it matter?” Castiel demanded to know and saw Dean shrink back slightly. „I don't know how you humans mourn, but the loss was like having limbs torn off and I had no time to process anything properly. It was death after death, half my family was wiped out by your wave of destruction. I was torn from my room, presented to you like mere cattle while the city around me burned. I was pronounced dead in my own home and imprisoned here, almost being eternally bound to the one I had been brokered off to for a bit of mercy. How close I was to my family seems an irrelevant question.” Dean was silent, his whole body rigid and the expression on his face deeply upset. Castiel took a deep breath, shaking his head at the man who was his husband.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean said and Castiel watched him lift a trembling hand to his face, fingers rubbing his eyes. He said no more and Castiel watched him weep in silence as their tea grew cold between them.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel looked up from his morning tea when Dean walked into the room. It was late enough for the sun to shine in through the windows at Castiel’s back, highlighting Dean’s hair but also displaying the dark circles under his eyes and his solemn expression.

“Good morning,” Castiel greeted, pulling away the ample folds of the dressing gown that had been sent up to his room.

“My queen,” Dean replied and sat down on the cleared space with a groan. A servant that came to hand Castiel the morning news he had required turned to Dean to pour him coffee before excusing himself again.

“Why do you call me that?” Castiel asked, watching Dean rub his palm over his face before taking a sip of his steaming beverage. “Was it because of the servant?”

“Yeah… You are my queen,” Dean replied defensively, but when Castiel chose to read instead of reply he uttered a sigh. “That’s what Michael demanded. Did you want a different title?”

“I did not wish to be anything in this country,” Castiel replied without looking up from the page.

“Cas,” Dean said with a whine, but he fell silent and when Castiel looked up from a report he found him biting his lips. Dean was handsome, even when his face looked haggard, but it was not a look that particularly pleased Castiel.

“I am used to female titles. I was always meant to change status completely when married,” Castiel explained. He told himself that it was mere good manners that made him continue the conversation.

“How come?” Dean wondered, his expression less reserved now. He reached out to take a piece of bread, butter and cut meat.

“We have a different understanding of genders than you humans do, accordingly our language has different words for different concepts. You know that there are few angels that can procreate. A lot of our understanding of gender is based around procreation. While there are angels that you humans would call female, the strict translation of our word for female means someone guarded because she is precious. If I had married back at home, then I would have become female in our sense of the term. Our females tend to move only in domestic spheres within the window of their fertility. I would have been addressed as Mother from the moment I was bound to my husband, regardless whether I have children or not. Angel mothers are treasured because without us there will be no more angels. But we are also commodities most of the time. We cannot move freely and unless we have a jealous husband we will be loaned out to other angels to have their young.” Castiel was not surprised to find a frown on Dean’s face. “You are a jealous husband.” Castiel said it with a small smile and Dean blushed at that.

“Hell yeah. But I learned part of my lesson,” he said and Castiel tilted his head. “It’s not my place to decide for you. If you would like me to address you with female pronouns or call you mother I will.” Castiel was somewhat surprised at this. That Dean did not care to uphold angelic customs wasn’t surprising, but that he gave him a choice in the matter was. Maybe the guilt he felt was real enough to get him to change some of his ways. Castiel was cautious about it, but not ungrateful. For humans, who had different ideas about people’s standing in society, the natural switch from one status to another was probably unsettling, if not that then at least slightly irritating. Castiel had always anticipated it because it had been something out of his control. To be given a choice, at least in how he would like to refer to himself, was… odd. Refreshing almost and Castiel’s heart beat nervously.

“I would like you to continue as you’ve done before,” he decided after a while and when he looked up to see how Dean would react, he received a nod. They fell into silence after that, but it was not the same as it had been yesterday during tea.

“There is very little in your newspaper about what is happening in angel country,” Castiel said when he was through with the paper and Dean, who had finished his meal quite a while ago and was now reading correspondence, looked up. “Is nothing happening?”

“Nothing that would interest the public all too much. We’ve negotiated borders recently and now we’re rebuilding. Sam wouldn’t stop crying about how we had destroyed your main place of worship and your university, so we’re restoring them. I’ve received a list of damages and… Well…” Dean sorted through his letters and unfolded one. It was several pages of parchment.

“I’ve seen the damage… It was horrible,” Castiel said silently.

“Yeah,” Dean said, not even trying to argue. “I didn’t know what we were destroying, I was just happy to see it burning… I have little understanding of your culture, nobody has, and some felt you were threatening. I think that’s the main issue…” Dean looked up and studied Castiel’s face.

“What is it?” Castiel asked in confusion and Dean shook his head.

“I didn’t know what angels were, Cas… You’re… alien. Strange… I thought we humans were so much better than you…”

“Do you still think that?” Castiel wondered, reaching over the table to take the list of damages even though he had seen it all with his own eyes. The list was very thorough, even giving estimates of what could be saved and how much it would cost Dean to rebuild.

“I don’t know what to think… I dislike Michael, but you… You’re wonderful. You’re a much better person than I am,” he said darkly. Then he sighed and shook his head. “Well, Winchester is a rich kingdom and I can afford to help rebuild yours. It’s the least I can do. I will visit our outpost soon.” Castiel perked up at that, balling his hands into fists. His interest in that piece of information didn’t slip Dean’s attention and the king gave a small, sad smile. “I assume you will want to join me.” Castiel kept silent. “I don’t think it’s too odd for me to take my family. Though I am not sure if it’s prudent to take you over the borders. But we can examine that later on.”

“I would like to join you, yes,” Castiel agreed, “even if I can only stay in your little colony. I would like to meet my sisters again and since they will not come into your kingdom that might be my only chance.” Castiel’s spirits lifted when Dean smiled at him and nodded.

“I hope you’ll excuse me, I have to send letters,” Castiel told Dean, who rose immediately when Castiel made to leave the table.

“Can I accompany you to your floor?” he asked and Castiel looked at him in surprise. Dean lifted his hands disarmingly.

“Why would you want that? I can find my way now,” Castiel assured him, to which Dean had to laugh, but the sound wasn’t very cheerful.

“I trust your ability to navigate the palace… I just wanted to be in your presence for a while longer,” he said. Castiel opened his mouth in surprise, squinting at Dean.

“Fine,” he found himself agreeing and got to see the immediate change on Dean’s face. A small flicker of hope shone in his eyes and he smiled a bit brighter and a bit more genuinely. He didn’t attempt to take Castiel’s arm or to get too close, merely accompanying Castiel up the stairs without saying anything. There was still a smile on his face when they reached the corridor that would lead to Castiel’s chambers.

“Thanks, Cas. Will you come to join us for lunch?” Castiel hesitated but then he shook his head. Dean did make a valiant effort not to let this dim his smile.

“I think I will have some lunch delivered to my room. I take a lot of time writing my letters and I was thinking about reading in the afternoon.” Dean accepted that without trying to convince Castiel to come.

“Alright. Then maybe I will see you later. Just call for me if you need anything.” Castiel nodded and Dean turned around, walking down the stairs, leaving Castiel to wonder about his husband.

* * *

 

Evening sunlight was streaming in through the high windows by the time Castiel was done with his letters, having written and rewritten them time and again. But now they were sealed and ready to be sent off. Castiel could ring for a servant to have them carried to what the human city apparently called a post office. But Castiel did not want to hand them over in fear of having them taken away before they were sent. Considering how Sam had supplied him with the necessary means to communicate with his home, this fear seemed unfounded, but he was not foolish enough to trust the humans.

Castiel decided to get dressed, choosing a pair of pants, soft leather boots and a shirt that was too wide but with a tighter vest and a light coat over it he felt he was at least presentable. He had no plans to join the Winchester siblings for dinner, but he had to find someone who would take him to the post office or at least give them to Sam to take there. The younger Winchester was demure and humble, treating Castiel with respect, but there was guilt and shame in almost everything he did. Castiel assumed that Sam was no fighter and if he had understood correctly he had opposed the war. Castiel was therefore cautiously assuming that both Sam, as well as princess Charlie, would choose to help him even if it meant going against their brother’s wishes.

Castiel made his way downstairs, still moving slowly and almost secretly through the corridors which he had to call his home now. He rarely met servants, but they all stopped and bowed when they saw him. Castiel acknowledged them with a nod, unsure what human customs required, but a friendly acknowledgment didn’t seem to be all too wrong.

“Oh, Cas!” Castiel froze when he almost ran into Dean on the way to the entrance hall. The king was putting on a jacket, tugging at his collar.

“Dean,” Castiel replied, forcing himself to calm down. Dean took a step back, allowing Castiel more space, then he grinned at him.

“You’re looking good,” Dean said and Castiel looked at him with confusion, letting his eyes flit down to his chest and then shoes. “Are you going anywhere?”

“I have a letters to send,” Castiel replied, lifting his eyes again, “what about you?”

“I was just heading out to Ellen’s for dinner. Do you want to join me? I can show you the way to the post office. Even though it’ll be closed at this time of day I’m sure I can get Frank to open up for you.”

“You _are_ the king,” Castiel argued with some surprise, “surely he will open his services to you whenever you need them.” The thought that King Michael would not have been immediately received, no matter the time, seemed like a ridiculous thought to Castiel. Dean laughed though.

“Opening hours are opening hours. If I need something sent at once I’ll get a courier,” Dean explained, then he turned his head around to look at the clock above the door arch. “It’s just after six, he won’t grumble too much if we hurry up.”

“I’m not sure… I don’t think I look presentable enough to appear in public,” Castiel replied slowly, looking Dean up and down. He wasn’t dressed like a king either, but Dean rarely did. He did look elegant and beautiful, but there was some casualness about him that no king Castiel had ever seen possessed. Maybe it was his youth, he mused.

“I think you look damn fine,” Dean assured him with a grin. “I can deliver the letters for you though if you don’t want to leave.” Castiel clutched the letters to his chest.

“I’d prefer to see them off myself,” he told Dean and was met with a nod.

“Sure. So… Do you want to join me for dinner? It might get a bit loud since it’s a tavern. Benny – you know, my knight - will be there, he could escort you back home if you felt uncomfortable.” Castiel thought about that for a moment. He did want to send the letters today, but appearing in public, whether dressed as their queen or not, made him feel queasy.  

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? Are your queens generally mingling with commoners?” Castiel dared to ask and Dean put his hands into the pockets of his jacket, shrugging his shoulders.

“My parents thought that being approachable was important. We’re just people like everyone else. I like to know my subjects because it helps me make decisions that benefit all. If I don’t… Well… Waging war did turn out in our favor because we expanded, but there were quite a few voices in the public that were vehemently against it,” Dean said, then he nodded towards the door. “You coming, Cas?”

Castiel hesitated, but then he put the letters into the wide pockets of his vest and followed his husband.

“Have those that criticized your actions changed their minds now?” he wondered, but fell silent when he was in the city. It was the first time he moved through it without being either hunted or paraded around. From the palace gates the city spread as far as Castiel could see. The roads were wide and paved, like at home, but the houses lining the streets were different. Less angular, less controlled. Here and there Castiel could still see small and slim buildings, probably dating back to the earlier days, when this had just been a little colony. Castiel saw the 500 years of this city around him. It was a young city, but it was lively and expanding.

People stopped to greet Dean, but most stared at the queen at his side. Castiel thought he must have been looking funny. His wings were not well groomed despite his attempts to keep them healthy and he did not wear an elegant dress. Castiel tensed a bit and instinctively stepped closer to Dean.

“It’s okay, Cas… Nobody’s going to do you any harm,” Dean assured him and lifted his arm in silent invitation.

“No, no it’s okay,” Castiel told him quickly and Dean dropped his arm. Maybe it was odd to have the king and queen walk with this kind of distance between them, but while Castiel appreciated the offer of protection, he was not comfortable with the idea of them being this close again. Dean had respected his desire for distance so far, but that didn’t mean that Castiel felt ready to trust him enough to have his hands on him again.

 “Most have never seen an angel. You’re very exotic.”

“I’m not exotic. I just don’t belong,” Castiel corrected and looked up at Dean. The king was wearing a pensive expression, but he eventually gave one slow nod. “You humans don’t know much about angels…”

“You have never been particularly inviting…” Dean muttered, “getting information out of you is like pulling teeth.”

“Just like you humans were convinced of your superiority, many considered our kind to be better than yours,” Castiel admitted, not greatly offended, “and so far I have seen instances that let me assume that their judgment was not entirely untrue.” Dean tensed at that, but didn’t try to contradict it. “But not everything you humans do is bad.” Dean snorted, but then he slowed down. They were in front of a building with many small windows. Castiel could see light in some of them and when he lifted his head he saw the lettering designing this as the post office. Dean banged his palm against the door.

“Frank, open up! I’ve got a letter to send!” Nothing happened for a while and Dean repeated the knocking. A small squeak from overhead made them look up to where a man was poking his head out of a window with an annoyed expression.

“We’re closed, dumbass,” he called down and Dean rolled his eyes. “Come back tomorrow.”

“Castiel wants to send a letter and he would like to do it now,” Dean shouted back and Frank, who had already closed the window, opened it again to peer down.

“Who?”

“Castiel. My wife. Your _queen_? Seriously, Frank, what have you been doing recently?”

“Working respectable jobs, unlike some people,” Frank said unkindly and Castiel couldn’t help wrinkling his nose when he found himself being under Frank’s scrutiny. He slammed the window shut after a while and Castiel felt no small amount of irritation at the disrespectful behavior.

“Just wait, he’ll open up,” Dean assured him and surely enough the door was opened within minutes.

“So you’re the angel then,” Frank said, suspiciously eying Castiel, especially his wings. Dean groaned.

“Knock it off, Frank. Just take the letters and go back to whatever nonsense you were working on,” Dean told him and gave Castiel a gentle nudge. Castiel was reluctant to hand over the letters, but if he didn’t want to wait for much longer to have them delivered he had no other choice.

“I’ll send those to the post office close to angel town. They’ll reach your addressees from there. Sisters?”

“Yes… They might be eager to hear that I am in health,” Castiel replied evenly, finding Frank raising an eyebrow at him. He didn’t say anything though and with a grumpy good night, he slammed the door shut. “He is not particularly friendly,” Castiel decided and Dean laughed.

“Yeah… He probably thinks you’re conspiring against us all,” Dean said, then he pointed down the street before Castiel could make up his mind to comment on how that was essentially what Michael meant him to do. “Ellen’s tavern is a short walk from here. Do you want to come or should I guide you back home?”

“I’m here already. I could eat I think,” Castiel decided, feeling a bit invigorated by both the annoyance he felt at Frank’s treatment and the fact that he now had sent letters to his sisters. Things were starting to look less hopeless.

* * *

 

Ellen’s tavern was lit up, yellow light streaming out of the ground floor windows and from little lanterns attached to the front. It was a big building, standing freely at the end of the street before it forked off on either side of the building. Dean had told him it also served as an inn. Scents and noise streamed out of it anytime the door was opened. It was dinner time so many people mingled about, preferring to enjoy the food at Ellen’s instead of preparing their own. Castiel assumed that this probably spoke for the wealth of the kingdom if its citizens could afford spending time in taverns. When the door was opened to grant Dean and Castiel access, Castiel was immediately enveloped by the smell of wood, humans and the fragrance of food. A fire was blazing in a corner, behind thick glass so the air inside was devoid of fumes but not of agreeable warmth.

Dean was greeted, all interactions with him easy and cordial, but people were a bit less sure about Castiel by his side. He received courtesies and “your highnesses” and he tried to reply to everyone even though he did not know who the people greeting him were.

“Seat us a bit to the back? I think it’s best if Cas is not in the center of attention,” he told a young, fair haired woman, who was making a long suffering sigh, but then she held out her hand to Cas.

“I’m Jo,” she said and Castiel shook her hand, “come, I’ll find you somewhere to sit, while Dean can go order a beer and fetch his drinking companion.” Castiel saw Dean frowning in annoyance to be brushed off by Jo, but apparently he wasn’t particularly angry since his face lit up after a second and he turned towards the bar. For one second, Castiel felt dread burn hotly inside of him once he lost sight of Dean in the mingling humans, but then Jo grabbed his tense hand and pulled him forwards. Castiel pulled his wings close to his body, trying not to touch anyone with them. He was relieved when Jo presented him with a table in an alcove, pillows piled on the benches. It was cooler here and less noisy. Other than leaving again, Jo sat down opposite Cas, folding her hands on the table and staring at him curiously.

“What…?” Castiel asked defensively. There was an aura of irritation sticking to her like a faint and fading scent. He wasn’t sure if it was directed towards him, but nothing about her posture signaled hostility.

“Just looking,” Jo assured him with a grin. “We’ve heard stories about angels but you’re not how I pictured them at all… You look fragile and gentle, not like a beast.”

“I’m not fragile,” Castiel told her with a frown and saw Jo shrug easily.

“I saw you during the ceremony and the feast afterwards. It looked like you would faint at any moment. I thought that Winchester would now have a weak and sickly queen that none of us would ever see. Just an exotic trophy that Dean won on his macho crusade.” Castiel widened his eyes in surprise and Jo lowered her head, shaking it and chuckling slightly. When she looked back up her eyes were warm but also slightly pitying. “I’m sorry, maybe that was too blunt. You are the queen after all.”

“No… No I…,” Castiel started, unsure what to say. He looked around, seeing a couple of eyes averted when spotted, eyes that seized him up and were clouded by something that Castiel couldn’t name. “Does everyone think that?”

“Few know better… And I know quite a few guys who’d love to have an exotic bride to show off. And I’m not sure just what you are…,” Jo explained. Castiel sighed, his wings fanning out slightly after deciding that Jo was at least being honest. He could appreciate that and she did seem to be genuinely interested.

“I can’t help it that you think I’m exotic… I’m not particularly fragile, not when I’m back at home. Here I’m weakened and I know little about this kingdom. It does make me feel vulnerable,” he explained, watching Jo’s expression. She pursed her lips and nodded.

“Do you even want to be here?”

“I wasn’t given a choice,” Castiel replied silently. It was not prudent to let all the kingdom know that he was held here against his wishes, but this was not something he wanted to lie about. Jo nodded, then she looked over her shoulder and got up.

“I’ll get you some tea, dinner won’t be long,” she said and then she suddenly was in Castiel’s space, crouching so that she was looking up at him. He gave a start, but kept his wings from flaring out and drawing attention. “Dean’s been a good friend of mine since we were kids. I care about him, but I doubt he was thinking at all when he brought you here and married you so quickly. You probably don’t have lots of friends here, so I just wanted to tell you that if you need someone to talk to or someone to hang out with until you get more comfortable here, just come,” she promised but before Castiel could reply, she rose, patted his shoulder and left.

He was unsure what to think of Jo’s offer. Now that he had rooms of his own he had a retreat where nobody should come bother him. But it made sense for Jo to offer if she was convinced that Castiel would stay. He would have to get more comfortable around humans and he would need friends. But since he and Dean were not bonded, he had no intention staying longer than necessary. Of course, marriage was something that angels knew too, but the promise to stay together was not necessarily permanent. If Dean weren’t the king he would think little of leaving him.

He looked up when he heard steps approach, but instead of Jo, he saw Dean carrying a tray with tea, Benny following.

“Your Majesty,” Benny greeted.

“Hello, Benny,” Castiel said, then he took the tea.

“How are you doing? Is it too noisy?” Dean wondered, putting down the tray, watching Castiel’s wings and face for signs of unease. He found none but the usual tension he had around his husband.

“No, it is fine here,” he said.

“You don’t need an escort back, then?” Benny asked, “because it would be no bother.” Castiel shook his head, taking the tea cup into his hands after Dean had added milk and sugar.

“You may enjoy your stay here,” Castiel told him and Benny nodded. He took a bow and left, even though Dean opened his mouth in protest.

“Why did he leave?” Dean mumbled, “we usually eat together.”

“Maybe because you did not come alone,” Castiel suggested and Dean heaved a sigh. “You can call him back if you wish to speak to him.” Dean shook his head, pouring himself a cup of tea, then he pointed to the seats opposite Castiel. “Do you want me to sit here?” Castiel looked at him in surprise, but nodded, so Dean sat down on the other side of the table. His legs brushed Castiel’s but then they retreated again to keep close to his side. “Why are you doing this?” Dean lifted an eyebrow and Castiel wondered if he should be silent instead. “You’re listening to what I say now. You didn’t respect my boundaries before.” Dean lowered his head, staring at his hands with a grim expression.

“Yeah, and that was shitty,” he said eventually, then he reached for his tea and drank, saying nothing more, but the grim expression stayed on his face. This didn’t make Dean a very entertaining dinner partner, but Castiel was used to stony silence when he ate, so there was no abundance of discomfort for him. Dean shifted uncomfortably when Ellen appeared at their tables, hands in her hips.

“How are you liking human food, Your Majesty?” Ellen asked. Castiel smiled up at her.

“It was unusual at first, but I might have acquired a taste for it. And this dish is truly fantastic,” Castiel replied, motioning towards his almost empty plate.

“I was worrying about serving an angel burgers, but I’m glad you like it,” Ellen said with a laugh. Castiel smiled, nodding.

“If you’re not formal with Dean, you don’t have to be with me,” Castiel added after Ellen had reprimanded Dean for not eating his salad. Ellen’s eyes widened slightly.

“I’m showing my respect, Your Majesty,” she insisted and Castiel nodded. “Let me get you another plate.”

“Many people are wary of angels, Ellen included. Her husband died at the hands of raiding demons,” Dean explained when Ellen was out of earshot. “And the creatures of this continent… Well, they’re similar in our heads.”

“We are similar,” Castiel added, “we’re powerful within our realms, but that is probably the extent of our similarities. And we’re not vicious. We’re people, not beasts.” He frowned and looked towards the busier part of the restaurant.

“Demons and other creatures have ravaged human villages, they’re dangerous to us, even unprovoked,” Dean said silently and Castiel turned his head back towards him, regarding him silently for a moment.

“So humans too are beasts,” Castiel concluded, which made Dean wince though Castiel suspects that he knew that he would reach this conclusion. “I know of your achievements, but I also know of your wars. I have read of them, I have felt their effects. Have you humans felt the wrath of angels?” Dean picked at his salad, but Castiel was sure he’d answer once he had let the thought pass his mind.

“I have seen you fight when we attacked. Your kind is strong. If we did not have tools and magic against you then I might have seen the wrath of angels,” he replied eventually.

“This is not what I meant,” Castiel said, but then he saw Ellen approach and decided to not continue his sentence. There was no need to cause more apprehension, especially if Ellen was already suspicious of him.

“Pie will be served later on,” Ellen said, then she sat down next to Dean, ignoring Castiel. While the slight did not go unnoticed, Castiel refrained from being offended. He was not sure if there was any point in having her respect. Jo thought he was fragile, but Ellen probably knew more about angels if she was not put at ease by his current lack of power.

“I have heard you’re recruiting more people for the settlement close to angel country,” Ellen started and Dean’s eyes quickly rose to meet Castiel’s. Castiel lifted his eyebrows, but then he turned towards his second serving of burgers, choosing to merely listen.

“Nothing official yet, but I’m not surprised that you heard,” Dean said with a snort. Ellen did not comment that, but she lowered her eyebrows, her glare stern.

“If Jo offers to go with you, don’t you dare take her with you. She’s already talking about making a name for herself in faraway lands and I won’t allow it. King or not, I’ll have your head if you endanger her.” This made Castiel look up, unsure of how serious their patron was, but her expression was stony until Dean gave a nod.

“I had no plans to take her. She’s no member of the guard and no matter how many times she begs Benny won’t let her join without the necessary exams. I’m no idiot, Ellen,” he said and the woman made a humming sound.

“Well, I do hope for your sake that you’re not an idiot about _this_ ,” she said, casting a quick look at Castiel, then she left Dean to glare at his food.

“Why do you let her talk to you like this?” Castiel wondered, watching the king tap his fingers against the table. “If my father would have been faced with such blatant disrespect he would have demanded retribution.”

“She’s just worried,” Dean assured Castiel, not taking his eyes off the table.

“She threatened violence,” Castiel retorted and now Dean looked up, his eyes wide with surprise, but then they narrowed slightly, one corner of his mouth twitching before he could school his features.

“Are you worried about me, Cas?” he asked and Castiel frowned at the reply.

“I am not sure if I worry about your health or about your authority,” Castiel said and Dean stoutly kept his eyes averted. “I will refrain from talking about this at length in public and I understand that humans have a different way to govern a kingdom. That I don’t have Ellen’s respect doesn’t faze me, but that a king who leads armies doesn’t have sufficient respect from a commoner does make me wonder how you managed to motivate your people into a war.”

“So you think I’m a weak king,” Dean said after a while, slowly raising his head to study Castiel.

“A weak king can’t rally masses without duplicity or violence. Benny seems to trust your judgment so I assume you’re not corrupt enough to afford this kind of weakness. So I don’t know, Dean,” Castiel replied and Dean shook his head, sighing. They were served pie and resumed eating in silence. Castiel took the time he spent in this public place to observe humans, trying to remember who he had been introduced to during the wedding ceremony. Most had been a blur to him then but he was not sure if it was relevant to know about Dean’s entourage.

“Do you want to go back?”

“That would be alright with me,” Castiel replied. Dean nodded, getting up from the bench, Castiel following suit. Dean reached out for Castiel, when someone bumped into him, causing his wings to flutter nervously. Castiel wondered why humans were not more careful, especially when they were in the presence of a king and queen, not that Castiel assumed anyone in this establishment regarded him as such. Dean’s grip on him was light, still Castiel couldn’t help feeling nervous and he was glad when they were outside.

Castiel took a deep breath of fresh air and he stepped away from Dean, who let him go with some reluctance. Castiel’s wings slowly spread a bit, shaking once, before they fit themselves against Castiel’s back again. The sky was dark, but the houses were lit from within and by lights lining the streets. Humans were still about, though hardly anyone paid any attention to them. Castiel raised his eyes. The stars were glimmering faintly, too dull to see with all the light of the capital still on.

“Is it like this everywhere in human cities?” Castiel asked and Dean turned his head to look at him with confusion. “Bright.” Dean frowned, but then he smiled in understanding.

“Not everywhere. But humans… Well, living in monster land has taught us to be wary of the dark,” Dean said but before Castiel had the chance to be offended at the slight, Dean continued: “we’re weak, Cas. We should not even be on this continent. But we are. If humans are anything, then it’s adaptive. So we invested into progress. Into light.” He sighed, the air cool enough for it to hang in the night air for a second before dissolving.

“At home, I could see the stars,” Castiel said after a long moment of silence.

“You just have to get a bit out of town and you would,” Dean told him. They had reached the main gates to the castle and passed through them into the court yard. “Sam, Charlie and I used to lie in the castle gardens at night back when we were kids, watching the stars. There was less light then but when Dad was made king he insisted on keeping them burning all the time. He thought it would protect us against demons and other monsters.”

“And it didn’t,” Castiel guessed, but Dean only shrugged, his mouth pressed into a thin line. They were in the entrance hall now and Dean turned towards Castiel, the grimness of his face melting away when he looked at him.

“May I escort you to your floor?” he asked and Castiel nodded. Dean smiled and together they walked the familiar route.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Dean’s plans to leave for the settlement were delayed by the short-notice arrival of diplomats from overseas. Dean had apologized and left for the harbor city in quite a hurry to receive them, leaving Castiel with ample time to himself. The castle without Dean was odd, but not unwelcome, since his husband’s absence reduce the potential of conflict and tension. Instead of carefully tip-toeing around the corridors, he found himself exploring a bit more boldly. He kept to himself most of the time, even though he occasionally joined Sam or Charlie, tried to learn how to play the harp (with little success), studied the local flora by strolling through the gardens, read up on history and wrote letters almost daily. His activities weren’t all that different to what he had done at home, but there he didn’t have to feel displaced and he still had his studies. But this would not last a life-time, he knew that now.

He had to inform his sisters that they should expect him in a month, not the two weeks he had last promised them.

“You’re quite the letter writer, aren’t you, feathers?” Frank asked, stamping the envelope and putting it into a bag. “You’re lucky that we’re dispatching mail in a moment. Your letters will reach angel country in two days.”

“Writing is all I can do,” Castiel said defensively and Frank snorted, turning away from the counter. Castiel knew that he was dismissed and that asking about word from home was futile, like the day before and the days before that. Frank was probably sick of seeing him turn up at his door step the moment he opened the office.

“Boy, you young people… You’re married. You’re royalty. Why don’t you party or something? Go to the brothel if you’re bored without your freckled darling,” he said and Castiel rolled his eyes, but the irritation he felt with Frank was now familiar. “Since two weeks you’ve been pestering me with letters every second day. I don’t even know what you’re telling your sisters. Are you talking about the weather or something? Because it’s shit. I’ve had to get the fire service to pump the water out of my cellar. It’s good that I no longer keep my records there.” Castiel looked out of the window towards the dark skies. It had been cloudy for quite a while now though Sam had told him that the weather tended to get this way this time of the year. Complaining temporarily on hold, Frank opened a drawer and pulled out a letter. Castiel didn’t reply to Frank because he did not feel like confessing about the unimportant details he had to tell his sisters. He wrote about books he read, talks he had with Sam or Charlie, the quality of the bubble baths and the oddness of electricity. He widened his eyes when Frank put a letter in his hands. “Here. This arrived yesterday. Now get lost. I have to work!” Castiel looked at it in confusion, turning it around to search for the sender’s sign. It had a seal on it, blood red wax with an elaborate DW in the middle of the crest.

Castiel bid his good-bye, then he walked down the road. It was still early morning, but people were already about, especially children on their way to school. They were carrying umbrellas against the faint drizzle, colorful smudges in the grey wetness of the partially slumbering town.

“Hello, queen!” Castiel gave a start and looked across the street where he could see a small group of children, huddled together under their umbrellas, waving. Castiel lifted his hand and when their smiles broadened he slowly extended his wings which had them giggle and point in delight. Castiel smiled.

“Don’t be late for classes,” he told them.

“Yes, Your Majesty!” they chirped and then ran through the puddles. Castiel watched them, not unaware of the looks he received from adults observing him from windows or doorframes. He was not sure how he was being perceived, if his presence in public was an irritation for those who had only wanted to know that their king was potent enough to get himself a foreign bride. He tried not to take notice unless he was greeted.

By the time he reached the insides of Ellen’s tavern, his wings felt heavy with rain.

“Never heard of an umbrella?” Jo complained, tossing him a towel before he could even say hello to her.

“Of course I have, but I don’t own one,” he said, drying his hair. Jo rolled her eyes, then she ushered Castiel to the tea room that was usually not open during this time of the day. Castiel sat on a bench close to a window watching the rain fall outside. Jo disappeared to prepare tea and Castiel was left to study the envelope.

“So what’s that?” Jo asked, coming back with a tray loaded with breakfast.

“I think it’s from Dean,” he answered and Jo hummed to herself, her expression bored. Castiel knew that Jo was angry with Dean. She still harbored hopes that she would be accepted into his guard. Jo had confessed how she dreamt of following into her father’s footsteps, that she thought it unfair that she was denied just because her mother didn’t want her to go down that path. That Jo was even willing to talk to Castiel about such issues had surprised him. He had only started taking her up on her offer of companionship a couple of days ago, when he realized that he did get bored with nothing to do. Back at home he didn’t get to meet many people, but he had had his studies and siblings and learning how to run a household. Spending time with people other than Sam or Charlie was not a bad thing. And Jo didn’t have any issues with him being an angel, even though it was not a topic they had ever discussed again. A topic that they (or rather Jo) did discuss was her disappointment in being left behind now that Dean had left for the harbor. Even if she was not part of the guard he could at least have offered to take her with him. It was just a trip, but for Jo who could not leave the city it would have meant much. Castiel half wished that he could promise to take her to the settlement, but it was not a promise he was allowed make without thinking it through first.

“Maybe you should open it,” Jo said, drawing Castiel’s attention back to the envelope, and produced a small knife seemingly out of nowhere. Castiel took it after a moment of hesitation, then he broke the seal and pulled out the parchment. “I’ll run to the bakery and get you some scones with this tea,” Jo announced and Castiel was not sure if he was glad for the privacy she allowed him.

When he heard the door close Castiel unfolded the parchment.

_“Dearest Castiel_

_It will still be some time until I can return. They talk and talk, then it’s lunch, then they talk some more, then we have dinner and talk some more. They’re a demanding bunch and I have half a mind to send them back across the ocean without giving them anything. But they’re family, however distant they’ve become. I at least have to hear them out and entertain them for a while._

_I’m staying at an inn here, as it was too short notice to get the harbor mansion ready for guests. But it’s all fine with me, I don’t like staying there all on my own. I kinda wish I had taken Sam with me, not only for company but also to help with negotiations. Negotiations aren’t really my strong suit. But the inn’s nice and the harbor has better weather than I assume the city to have right now. Is it still raining?_

_I wonder if you would like the harbor. Maybe you were here before, maybe you’ve even seen it turn from nothing into the thriving town it is today. It’s mostly a human town and I have seen neither demon nor angel about, though there are trading towns further inland where people mingle. Apparently trade does not care for species._

_I bought you some clothes from overseas; they should arrive within the week._

_I miss you already Cas, though I think a few days without me in the castle will do you good and I have no one but myself to blame._

_I’ve taken note of my current place of residence in case you want to send me a letter. Don’t feel pressured, though._

_With love,_

_Dean”_

After carefully reading the letter, Castiel studied the address, then he folded everything back up and put the letter into his pocket. He doubted that he would send him a message, because Dean was right. He did rejoice in the freedom, even though it came with a certain amount of boredom as well, but that was hardly connected to Dean. He would just have to amuse himself. Maybe he could ask who those diplomats were. While he did not care much for the politics of humans it was still favorable to learn as much as he could. It would keep his mind sharp and maybe help him navigate this kingdom for as long as he had to.

When Jo came back and they ate their scones Castiel decided to ask what she knew about the envoys.

“Oh, they’re Campbells. Dean’s Mom was one of them. The Winchesters have been here for 500 years, but the late queen was a foreigner. Just like you. Well, of course Mary was human. I don’t know what they would want of Dean though. They’re quite a warmongering people, the Campbells,” Jo explained, taking a bite off her scone. Castiel didn’t like the idea of Dean meeting with people that Jo considered to be warmongering, but he refrained from saying anything.

He bid his good-bye when Ellen came looking into the tearoom to send Jo on an errant. Ellen was still chilly with Castiel, a situation that had not ameliorated with his continued presence at her inn. And she seemed to be particularly unhappy about the blooming friendship between him and her daughter.

“Maybe you should take an umbrella,” Ellen suggested and Castiel accepted the offered item. He thanked her and went back out into the rain, which had not let up in the two hours he had spent with Jo.

The bad weather also forced him to stay indoors, wandering around, but after a while he went to the library to read up on the Campbells. At least that was something to do.

* * *

 

The dress Dean had sent him arrived two days later. It was a beautiful red dress reaching only to his knees, embroidered with bold colors and patterns. He had seen a picture of Dean’s mother in the library, where she wore a similar garment, but in a gentler, pale blue. Castiel liked the dress though and wore it all day, combining it with silk stockings and dark red slippers that he had borrowed from Charlie. He received another letter from Dean as well.

_“Dearest Castiel,_

_It has been a week, maybe more by the time this letter reaches you. We’re still negotiating though my patience tends to run thin now. They heard of the settlements in angel country and want to establish oversea trade. I don’t think it’s a good idea and it’s certainly not why they came here in the first place._

_They’re sharks and I get tired of them. I’m not sure if I should sign any treaties without talking to Sam or Bobby, but they’re putting pressure on me. I’ve sent a copy of the treaty to the castle, but it’ll take a while. You know, running a country is kinda hard. I’ve been doing it for 3 years now and I’m not sure what I’m doing most of the time._

_But you know that already._

_I just don’t want to mess up again._

_I sit up too much, thinking about things. It used to be easier._

_Selfishly, I miss you._

_With love,_

_Dean.”_

Castiel put the letter way, into one of the small compartments of his desk, where Dean’s other letter was also placed. For a while he debated simply ignoring the letter, just like he did the first, but then he felt a pang of worry about what the treaties were all about. Like Dean he did not really support the idea of oversea trade drawn from the settlement. Some angels did trade with towns and he knew that their products must reach the continent beyond the ocean like this. But it happened rarely and he saw no purpose in starting to produce exclusively for this oversea market when they were still suffering the effects of war.

Castiel decided to seek out Sam with the aim of looking at a draft of the treaty before he would reply to Dean.

\--

There was a strong wind blowing from the sea. Nothing much of the advancing summer could be felt in this town. It wasn’t raining, but the wind was bitingly cold and Dean’s skin was dry from the salt and gale. It was early evening now, the wind making the small, strong windows of his bedroom rattle. He would meet with the Campbells for lunch again tomorrow morning, having excused himself for the remainder of the evening. He had dismissed Benny and Victor and he assumed them to be down in the bar or in their rooms. Even though they were members of the guard, Dean trusted their judgment and he allowed them to comment upon what the Campbells discussed, much to the Campbell’s chagrin. With his 26 years, the Campbells did not think him to be a good king. Hell, Dean knew that he probably lost his “good king” tag the moment he waged war. In the eyes of the Campbells and quite a few of his people the gaining of territory was something to be hailed about though. Certainly, his father would have commented upon it favorably.

Neither Victor nor Benny had objected the war, but like Dean they were more prudent now, and Dean was glad to have slightly older and wiser men to offer their opinions.

He looked up when there was a knock on the door, a maid coming in to hand him a letter. Dean gave her a tip before looking at it. It was the stationary used in the castle, though the writing was not Sam’s or Charlie’s. Unsure whether he could hope, he opened the letter and pulled out the paper.

_“Dear Dean_

_Thank you for your letters and the dress you sent me._

_I have reviewed the treaty you forwarded to Sam, as well as collected as much knowledge about the Campbell affairs as I could from him and others that have served under your parents and grandparents. I don’t know if you will appreciate it, but allow me to offer my opinion._

_On the topic of exchange between the city of Campbell and your settlement I ask you to say no in any case. While this is mostly informed by my own unwillingness to engage in trade with humans it is not in our nature to produce surplus goods. We trade only what we no longer need as well as knowledge. Your settlement is in its infancy, with not enough people to take care of the land or to set up shops for the production of items. It would be foolish to allow the breaking down of your own settlement just because you try to meet foreign demands. Don’t do this._

_On the topic of the treaty. Campbell does not have financial difficulties, it is a land that has gotten its riches out of mercenary work for other families, making them an integral part of any network of import on the continents beyond the sea. They are not part of your network yet. If you agree to the terms of the treaty you will superficially be assured of their assistance (which you are already since the treaty that your father has signed upon marriage to your mother has been renewed for another 20 years less than 5 years ago). The treaty however also demands you to give them assistance in forms of weapons, manpower and money for when they cause conflict. Whatever conflict they cause, you will have to clean it up for them. Winchester would become their guard dog and their scape goat. Other than that, the second to last paragraph asks of you to provide them free movement within your entire kingdom and no liability. Imagine that they would come here and start hunting non-human creatures and you would be responsible for all of it._

_Dean, reject the treaty, there is no point in it at all. Refer to John Winchester’s already existing treaty. You have no need to participate in wars that happen overseas. You are a young king that has recently waged war and is now in the process of establishing a settlement. You have other concerns._

_Sam has agreed with me and I am sure he will tell you so in a letter as well. I have included a copy of the previous treaty for you to show them, though I believe they are aware of it and simply hoped that you would not be._

_Another word of advice; a king does not need to receive delegates which do not possess the common sense and deference to let him know well in advance that they were coming._

_I hope that you are in good health and will be able to wrap this meeting up quickly. You are expected back in 10 days._

_Castiel._

_P.S. You were right, the rain continues.”_

Dean stared at the letter, but then he couldn’t help grinning. He looked at the other pages which were, as Castiel had said, copies of the old treaty. He really hadn’t known about it and Cas was saving his ass. It was quite embarrassing, or it would be if Dean weren’t so damn proud at the moment. He went to his writing table, relief within his heart and a warm glow in his breast. Castiel, he knew, was just too amazing to be real.

* * *

 

Due to his research, Castiel had come into contact with the people responsible for certain affairs within the country. The gardeners liked him well, as did the cooks and the servants, but his initially timid demands to look into the records and treaties were met with much surprise.

“I tend to run Dean’s affairs for him. He hardly could take care of them after his parents both died,” Bobby Singer explained. Castiel had not met the man before and he seemed dismissive and cold, just like Ellen, though he didn’t try to hide it behind a mask of politeness.

“So you take care of the finances for them and the political arrangement with the Winchesters’ allies?” Castiel asked, quite surprised. Bobby snorted and pulled a book down from his shelf. Other than the library in the castle, this place seemed messy but Castiel refrained from commenting on it.

“We’ve got city administration to do some of the work, but for the castle itself, yeah, that’s my job. I’m mostly taking care of the kid’s education and seeing that everyone gets paid and that what Dean has to take care of are just the very important decisions. Most other things I decide together with the city council.” He eyed Castiel suspiciously, when he was looking through the documents connected to the war on angel country and the following rebuilding and construction of settlements. War was an expensive endeavor.

Castiel was aware of how Bobby watched him like a hawk.

“I don’t know if you should get involved with these things,” he said after a while, his expression hard but also uncertain when Castiel looked up from the correspondence about the settlement.

“I’ve had 200 years of training as a tactician and even more in the running of a household, I think I am capable of understanding,” Castiel retorted calmly and Bobby lifted his eyebrows. “Besides, I am Queen of Winchester now. Do your queens not get involved in public affairs?” Castiel knew that challenging Bobby might not make him well-loved by the old man, but to his surprise Bobby snorted in amusement.

“I think Dean was naïve to think that you would just be a pretty trophy,” Bobby told him after a while, “we probably all were.” He turned to his table, unlocking a drawer to pull out correspondence and other books. “No offense kiddo, but angels aren’t exactly seen as wise creatures around these parts. Nobody assumes you care about human business.”

“I am aware,” Castiel commented and took the offered documents. “What is this?”

“Correspondence between the court and angel country. Also, some open issues concerning the royal kids. You might want to help Dean reach conclusions.” Castiel nodded.

“Thank you for your trust,” he said and Bobby shrugged.

Gaining the tentative regard of Bobby Singer, Castiel found, also earned him a certain amount of respect from other people. Instead of being avoided or watched with curiosity, he was now asked for his opinion on all kinds of things and soon his usually empty writing table was piled with notes. He almost missed Dean’s letter after he had answered the request of some allied families to call upon the royal household. Dean, it seemed, had not been a fan of courtesy calls. Mary and John had often entertained guests, but the only big party Dean had celebrated in the last couple of years was their wedding though Castiel had seen relatively little of all those people who had come to visit.

He caught sight of the red seal on Dean’s letter and pulled it out from the heap.

_“Dearest Castiel_

_You’re awesome! It is well within your rights to offer advice and I am surprised that you cared enough about this to get the necessary information. Sam would have probably gone to explore, but your initiative is admirable._

_I have been able to wrap the negotiations up and I think I will not hear any annoying peep again from them in a while. I will see them off tomorrow morning and return to you as scheduled._

_I do miss you and wish to be back in your presence and to thank you properly for your help. Though I feel a respectable distance will be more appreciated. I will buy some more things for you._

_With love,_

_Your humble husband.”_

Castiel caught himself smiling as he read the letter. He was proud that Dean acknowledged his help. That Dean had made the implicit offer to give Castiel the next few days to himself as well was slightly surprising. Maybe he should just take it for the peace offering it was and be grateful. He was busy now and there was no need to have Dean around to entertain him. He could drink his tea with Jo or Charlie and he could talk with Sam. He did not miss the odd concoction of feelings that accompanied Dean’s presence, not the anger, not the fear, not the uncertainty, not the sadness and not the little flickers of gratitude that were now piled on him.

He decided to leave it alone, to wait this one week and then organize the trip to the settlement once Dean was back.

But still, in the evening, sitting at tea with Charlie who tried to study for exams while talking animatedly about pretty princesses, he still wrote a telegram to be sent to the inn at the harbor.

_“Dean. Presents are appreciated but return soon. Castiel”_

* * *

 

Dean saw Castiel standing on top of the stairs that led from the courtyard into the back of the castle. He was wearing the red dress he had been given and Dean missed a step out of the carriage and would have fallen into to the mud had not Benny held him up by his arm.

“Uh, sorry, sorry. Thanks, Benny,” Dean muttered though he only half registered Benny’s laughter. Dean left the presents in the carriage for the time being, trying to get his hair under control before going up the stairs. Castiel merely tilted his head, then he backed away into the corridor. His wings were partially unfolded, not tightly pressed to the beautiful arch of Castiel’s back.

“Hey,” Dean greeted him, breathless and beaming. “You look amazing.”

“Welcome back, Dean,” Castiel replied. Dean was unable to move, uncertain if he could touch him. Castiel lifted an eyebrow, his wings fanning out just a tiny bit. Dean hoped it was an invitation, because he took a step forwards and wrapped his arm around Castiel, careful not to squeeze too tight or to disturb his feathers. Castiel was rather stiff, but he did lift his arms to pat Dean’s back.

“I missed you so much,” Dean whispered into Castiel’s hair, then he kissed the top of his head and let go again. “I was surprised to receive your telegraph.” Dean had spent the entire journey home trying to smother the hope he felt sprouting in his breast, so by now he was mostly fearful, almost sick with it. “Nothing happened, did it?”

“No. I would not say that I missed you, because I do enjoy the independence I had, but there is much to be discussed,” Castiel said and Dean had at least been prepared for this. It still stung even though Dean knew he was to blame. Castiel put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze and Dean looked at him in surprise. “The bath is prepared in your chambers and I will join you for tea in half an hour if you can be quick about washing up.” Dean didn’t know what to say for a while, so he simply nodded. Castiel let him go and Dean took it as his cue to be on his way.

“Thanks Cas, I’ll see you in half an hour then!” The angel nodded and then he turned back towards the door to look at what was happening in the court. Dean watched his back for a while, how his wings pulled back in, folding neatly against his back, but no longer looking small and cramped, even though they were not as healthy as those he had seen in the angel city months ago. Dean tore his eyes away and rushed up the stairs, quickly stopping at Sam’s and Charlie’s rooms to tell them he was back, then he went to his own chambers with about 20 minutes to spare. The bath water was steaming and it smelled of rosemary. Dean got rid of his clothes and slipped into the bath. He sighed happily. After the sea side weather at the harbor and the long journey, everything ached. He rubbed his palms over his arms and legs. If he had more time he’d let his thoughts circle around Castiel, let them bring up the picture of him at the top of the stairs again, the beauty of his healthy looking form, of his wings not shying away and quivering, of his gaze being open and of how he felt when Dean had wrapped his arms around him. Dean tried not to think of him like he had seen him before, not of the soft, naked skin, not of how he had felt under him when Dean had kissed him after his foiled escape. He did not want to think about that pale thing that he had plucked out of its home and had locked away in his prettiest chambers.

It made him feel ashamed and angry and any desire that pooled in the pit of his stomach was distasteful to him. He quickly scrubbed himself and poured clean water over his head. He was half hard from excitement, longing and a too vivid imagination, but he toweled himself dry and got into loose clothes. He wrapped a robe around himself for good measure and then he went back into his room. Castiel was sitting at the open window, one arm resting on the sill and hair and wings moving in the wind.

“Sit down?” Dean only came out of his stupor when Castiel walked past him to the table that was laid out for tea. Dean followed him, sitting down in the armchair opposite Castiel. Dean poured tea for them and they drank in silence for a while. Castiel still was reserved in his presence; Dean could see it in how rigid he sat, how his eyes usually stayed focused on anything but Dean, how he was keeping every limb to himself, as not to chance touching Dean. But he was here.

“How have the Campbells taken your rejection?” Castiel asked after a while.

“They were surprised but didn’t actually kick up much of a fuss. I might get an angry letter from overseas, but the envoys cared more about the party I threw to celebrate getting them out of my hair,” Dean said with a laugh. “But seriously, your help was invaluable.” Castiel looked up from his tea cup, his eyes searching Dean’s face.

“You must learn to use your resources. You are a king, Dean. I must not become invaluable to your governing,” he admonished and Dean widened his eyes in surprise.

“I… understand if you do not want to deal with these things,” he told Castiel after a while.

“That’s not it. If I become invaluable to you, then leaving will cause disarray,” Castiel shook his head. Dean almost lost his grip on the teacup, a terrible feeling of dread making his stomach clench.

“Cas…,” he started and set the cup down. Castiel was watching Dean’s hands instead of his face. And maybe this was for the best, because Dean was sure that he was not able to hide how the thought of Cas leaving hurt him. “I…” He couldn’t say anything at all and he tried to clear his throat. “You are planning on leaving?”

“I always wanted to leave, Dean,” Castiel reminded him.

“Still?” Dean asked, not able to keep the sadness out of his voice. Castiel nodded.

“Will you still cage me?” Castiel asked and Dean lifted his hand to rub at his eyes. “Dean.”

“No…,” Dean forced himself to say, taking a few deep breaths to calm his shaking breathing. When Dean finally managed to look up Castiel’s face was gentle. Not smiling, but there was a softness about his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“I won’t leave you, Dean. Not now. I’ll accompany you to the settlement, but it’s possible that I cannot return home… I hope you will support me for as long as I need your help returning to where you took me from,” Castiel told him and Dean nodded.

“Of course. You are my wife. You are Queen of Winchester. You will be for as long as you can benefit from it,” Dean agreed at once, not quite happy, but at least glad that the pain of separation was not imminent. Castiel would still be here for a while, there was still time to… what? Make it up to Cas? He wasn’t sure how he could make up the loss of his family. He could not turn back time and stop his ignorance from burning a path of destruction through angelic lands.

“Our journey to the settlement next week is set, then?” Castiel asked and Dean smiled now, nodding.

“I heard it’s developing quite nicely. I hope you will be pleased despite your reservations about it,” Dean told him.

“I look forwards to being so close to home,” Castiel affirmed, his smile shy but it was there. It might hurt Dean to know that he would have to lose Castiel, but he was glad that some happiness was returning to him. That was what was important now. If Castiel couldn’t be happy here, then he had to do everything he could to build him a home away from Dean.

* * *

 

The next couple of days passed quickly for Castiel in a flurry of activity. Dean’s return to the castle filled him with only a small sense of apprehension. Castiel’s day was no longer structured around Dean or attempts of evading him. Most of the time he only saw him for breakfast and in the evenings in case there was something to discuss. Their moments together where kept relatively short, filled with topics that were deemed relatively safe. While Castiel went about his work, Dean mostly confined himself to his study where, so Bobby had told him, he was trying to catch up on the work others had done for him so far.

“That boy’s clever,” Bobby told him in hushed tones, “but he’s never had to hone his skills. Finished the academy early with excellent grades, but then his parents died and he had different concerns.” Castiel was sure that Dean was clever, he had been able to overpower angels after all with spell work and weapons created specifically to wage war against angels. But cleverness didn’t mean that he would be a good king.

Castiel assumed that Dean had already become a better, more mature person in the months that they had known each other, but – so a weary part of him said – maybe he was just getting too familiar with him. Dean had promised to let him go and he had given him a lot of space and independence, but they had never fully talked about the mountain of discord that was still between them, would probably always be between them.

He snapped out of his thoughts when someone cleared their throat. He blushed, recalling that he was in the middle of tea with Jo in Ellen’s tavern. It was evening and he and Dean would depart before noon on the next morning.

“My apologies,” he said and Jo rolled her eyes. “You were saying?”

“I was saying nothing. I was waiting for you to tell me why you wanted me here,” she said, but then she grunted when Dean came back to the table.

“Move it, Jo,” the king said and sat down on the bench next to her, opposite Castiel. Jo grumbled to herself and shot Castiel a dark look, apparently thinking the chance of talking to Cas lost due to his daydreaming. “Okay, here’s a burger for you, sweetheart,” Dean said, putting a plate in front of Castiel, “and steak with mashed potatoes for you.”

“Generous, Your Majesty,” Jo mocked, but she grinned, taking the food. “Mom never lets me have the good stuff her staff cooks up,” she complained.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said with a laugh and got a hold of his own burger.

“So what’s this about?” Jo asked after a while, chewing a fry she had taken off Dean’s plate.

“I wanted to talk about our journey.”

“Yeah. But why couldn’t we talk about it at home with Sam and Charlie?” Dean asked. Castiel folded his hands on the table and looked at him.

“Your visit to the settlement has a representational aim and you take your guards with you. Since you travel as a king, I will be present in the settlement as your queen. A queen does not travel without a confidante,” Castiel explained and even though Dean had nodded in understanding, he now widened his eyes at Castiel’s meaningful silence.

“What?” Castiel let his eyes travel to Jo and she almost chocked on her steak in surprise. “Aw, hell no, Cas! You can’t be serious!”

“What?! Why can’t he be serious?!” Jo almost leapt over the table, reaching out her hand to grab hold of Castiel’s shoulder. “Please tell me you’re not just joking!”

“I am not. I have reviewed the conditions for an acceptance into the Guard which you strive to achieve. Accompanying people of the city on their journeys out of the country constitutes one of the conditions,” Castiel told her and Jo smiled at him, incredulously and brilliantly.

“Oh, Cas, come on… Ellen will kill me if I agree to this!”

“I feel it is a disgrace that a young woman should be denied to attempt to reach a positions she wants to hold. She should at least be admitted to the entrance exam to the academy,” Castiel argued. Dean hid his face in his palms, shaking his head.

“Yeah. I get what you’re saying, but it’s me who will be responsible for whatever happens to Jo. I feel that even a paper cut she’ll get while studying for her exams will be met with corporal punishment from her mom,” he whined.

“But you’re not opposing it?” Castiel wanted to know and Dean lifted his head to look over his fingers. “That I take her with me to the settlement?” Dean lowered his hands and sat up straight, looking first at Castiel, then at Jo.

“Please, Dean!” she begged, clasping her hands together. “It’s just the settlement.  I won’t go running off to kill monsters, I promise.”

“Okay,” he decided after a while and Jo shrieked in delight, hugging him. “Just put flowers on my grave if your mom kills me,” he said dramatically.

“Let that be my worry, I will talk to Ellen about it,” Castiel assured him, making Dean utter a defeated sigh. They finished the dinner with Jo chatting excitedly about how she imagined the settlement to be and all the things she had to prepare. She excused herself when dinner was over and soon after that Ellen was standing at their table, her expression stormy. Dean winced, but didn’t say anything. Ellen placed both her hands on the table, leaning in close to Dean.

“Have you just allowed my daughter to accompany you to the settlement?” she asked, her voice low, but almost shaking.

“That was I,” Castiel spoke up and even though a shiver went through his wings, rustling them gently, when Ellen turned towards him he met her eyes. “I needed a confidante to accompany me and since Jo is my friend I asked her.”

“You can’t-“ Ellen took a sharp breath and swallowed, checking herself. “Your Majesty,” she started again, “the settlement is dangerous and Joanna is in no way trained to protect you.”

“She won’t have to. She is not going with me to be my guard, she is going to be my companion,” Castiel explained.

“It’s dangerous!” Ellen retorted, “I won’t allow Jo to be subjected to such dangers!”

“I’m an angel, Ellen,” Castiel told her calmly, “the closer we get to my homeland the stronger I will be. The only one who could harm her is a human who knows of spell work to take me out and I assume Dean to trust his guard members to not lay a hand on your daughter.” Ellen stared at Castiel, but after a while, she let herself fall into the empty seat vacated by Jo.

“Castiel, don’t endanger my daughter. I don’t care that you’re my queen. I am her mother.”

“I know. But Jo is 23, old enough for a human to go out to prove her worth. Nothing will happen to her. Let her experience the thrill of the outside world when it’s safe for her to do it.” Ellen didn’t say anything to that, merely looked at Castiel and then she rose. She cast Dean a warning glance and then she excused herself.

“Well, uhm, that was chilly,” Dean said and Castiel couldn’t help relax his wings slightly when she was gone.

“She doesn’t like me, so this is nothing new,” he said and Dean snorted. “Do you think it is cruel to go against the wishes of a mother?”

“Yeah,” Dean said and Castiel’s face fell, “but not when her daughter is an adult. I agree with you, Cas, Jo should be able to at least try her luck. The academy training is hard. Maybe she won’t like it, but it’s probably better than being stuck here all her life, always waiting for her mom to be less protective of her.” Castiel nodded, at least a bit appeased to have Dean’s agreement. He was still the king, so the likelihood of him being able to deny Castiel his wishes was a possibility. He was glad he hadn’t though. They left the table, making their way back to the castle. It wasn’t late yet, but darkness was already falling and the wind made even the warm summer air feel slightly chilly. Lawrence was rarely silent, at least not this early in the night and seeing the lights shining in the streets and glimmering in little spots where they had been attached to the trees made him think of home. It was never entirely dark at home, even in the deepest of night. Nostalgia hit Castiel now that he knew to be so close to seeing his home again and he spread his wings almost on instinct. Dean made a sound of surprise when the feathers touched him. Castiel took no notice.

“I wonder if my mother would have agreed to Michael’s decision to marry me to you,” he said silently. “Do mothers see the greater good in the sacrifice of their child? I find it hard to imagine.”

“If your mother was anything like I imagine you to be, she would have fought to keep you home,” Dean told her. “My mom would have too. She wouldn’t have let me ravage the lands. I wonder if she’s ashamed.”

“If you fear that, maybe you’ll just have to make her proud again,” Castiel advised him. He pulled his wings back close to his body when they reached the castle. They climbed the stairs in silence, Dean accompanying Castiel to his room as always. Castiel had become used to hearing Dean’s silent steps like an echo of his own. Before he could go to his room however, Dean took hold of his wrist. His hold on him was gentle and loose, easy for Cas to slip out of, but he didn’t. He turned to look at Dean, who studied his face.

“I don’t know if I can,” he confessed and Castiel studied him, saw the sorrow etched into his face and sighed.

“I know that you can try,” he said. “You’ve been doing right by me the last weeks. Just keep trying to right your wrongs.” Dean didn’t say anything, so Castiel turned his hand in Dean’s wrist, pulling it up to his face to kiss the back of Dean’s hand. “Good night, Dean,” he said and let Dean go to return to his room.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he heard Dean reply before the doors closed. Maybe, Castiel told himself when he was lying in bed, looking at the door, this would be the last time Dean accompanied him to his chamber. Maybe this would be the last night he fell asleep in this bed.

Castiel felt an inexplicable sense of sorrow in his chest, even as his wings quivered in anticipation of being back where he belonged.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Sam and Charlie seemed morose when they helped to load a vehicle Dean called “the Impala”.

“I’m going to miss you,” Charlie said, throwing her arms around Castiel, her fingers brushing the top of his wing bones. Dean looked at them both with an unreadable expression, then he turned back to checking the machinery.

“Hey,” Sam said, approaching Dean while Charlie and Castiel talked.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean replied, trying to keep his voice even.

“What’s going to happen now? Do you think Cas will really stay?” Dean took a sharp breath and slammed the hood of the engine closed.

“Wow, straight to the point,” he muttered, cleaning his hands on a towel. Sam shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know… I think he’ll want to, but the settlement isn’t the capital. I don’t think Michael will take him back. It’ll be-“

“A breach of contract, yeah I know,” Sam finished, “but do you think they’ll be that proud? Just because Castiel would return wouldn’t make you nullify your end of the bargain.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Dean told him and Sam stepped out of the way when Dean went to the driver’s side. “Cas? We’re set!” Jo was already sitting in the back, getting cozy. Castiel nodded and let Dean help him climb into the carriage. Its slightly arched roof was almost too low for Castiel to fit his wings in properly. And by the way he gripped the leather he wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“I don’t know why you insist on your metallic monstrosities,” Jo complained when the engine roared to life. Dean held his hand out to the carriage behind him which was driven by Benny and hosted most of their baggage. “What’s wrong with good old horse drawn carriages?”

“They’re slow.”

“They’re certainly faster on terrain without roads,” Jo grumbled, though she was soon sticking her nose against the glass window, watching the courtyard give way to the long road that lead around the town and away to the settlement.

“Well, we were building roads.”

Their banter mostly passed Castiel by. Dean watched him in the mirror that allowed him to see into the back, finding Castiel’s gaze absent, directed to the lands moving quickly past them. He saw him hold his breath, wings tensing when they rode past the city proper into a less densely populated area. The houses here were still nice, most of them bigger and grander than in the city. Dean knew all the names of the landowners and he was aware that he had to allow them back into the castle, into the inner circles of his cabinets and the ballrooms. The war hadn’t lost him their favor, but not inviting them to parties might as well do. He checked on Castiel again who had now taken on a somber look, his wings resting again and hands clasped together. He was pale and for a moment Dean worried that he might be motion sick.

“Cas? You’re alright?” he asked but kept his eyes on the road as they took a bend that led them around one of the larger farms. Braeden’s farm, supplying the kingdom with the produce out of their orchard, was stretching over the landscape to the right, the stone wall of the orchard shining in the sunlight. Dean wondered if Braeden’s sharp witted, lovely daughter Dean might have flirted with once or twice was about. But instead of getting lost in memories of one of the nicer parties, Dean was aware of the silence in the backseat. “Love?”

“The last time I passed these lands I was locked into a small carriage,” Castiel answered finally and Dean had to swallow down the sudden nausea that threatened to climb up his throat. “I remember the darkness and the uneven path and the stench of ash that clung to my robes and the wood…” Jo too had sat up straight to listen to Castiel’s soft voice. He was watching the tips of the apple trees that swayed over the top of the orchard’s wall and the enormous white clouds gliding over the brilliant blue sky. He said no more and both Dean and Jo were unable to speak.

They rode on in silence.

* * *

 

The road was getting uneven, jostling the three travelers, but Castiel was surprised that they had been carried that far. They were now in a small village, still human, but when Dean opened the door for him and he stepped out in the early evening he could taste the Grace in the air. Benny was walking around with a lantern even though there was still light enough for Castiel to see. They were in front of what Castiel assumed to be an inn, but it lay quiet in front of him like the rest of the village was. The ground was cobblestone, but not far from where they stood there was hard packed dirt and then grass. Wooden poles, arranged in a semi-circle around the village, marked the boundary towards the high grass and hills in the distance. Castiel was faintly familiar with the lands beyond, could see the stars and the hills and the forest that lay between him and angel country. He could feel the pull in his core, the hum of Grace and the song of the Host not so far away anymore.

These were the northern edges of human habitation.

“I’ll go check the warding with Benny, you two can go to your rooms.” Dean’s voice called Castiel out of his thoughts but before he could reply Dean was already walking away, his boots sounding heavy on the rough stone. The light of Benny’s lantern swayed among the tall grass and Castiel could see etchings in the wooden poles, which were not worn with weather like the houses around him, but new and polished.

Jo tugged at Castiel’s hand and soon they were in the dimly lit inn. There was a woman bending over a book, reading in the faint light of a candle. By the time Castiel was at the bar the woman had long looked up, studying Castiel.

“Castiel Winchester,” she said, her voice sounding amused despite the initial calculating stare. She then turned her eyes towards Jo. “And this must be Jo Harvelle. Escaped your Mom, huh?” Jo shrugged but didn’t say anything. The woman closed the book and reached under the counter to produce two keys. She held them out to Jo at first, but before Jo could grab them she pulled them back with a hum. Jo uttered an annoyed groan but Castiel watched the woman wave the keys around, her eyes still resting on Castiel. After a while she bent down again and produced a third key. “One for the noble knight, one for the queen,” she said and gave both Jo and Castiel a key. “And one for the king.” She put the key on the table and pushed it towards Castiel, the heavy iron sounding harsh as it scrapped over the counter. Castiel took it with some confusion and the woman grinned.

“Relax, Your Majesty. I’m Pamela and I keep watch of this boring place for Dean,” she explained and there was something exposing in her eyes, as if she could see right into him. He had often felt exposed when among humans, especially back when Dean did not respect the boundaries between his possessions and Castiel. Their judgment however had lingered on his garments, his gait, his wings. Pamela’s eyes seemed to reach deeper.

“Well, I’m beat. I’ll go check out my room,” Jo exclaimed, either unaware of the tension in the dark room or knowing that it would not resolve unless she would leave. There was childlike excitement in Jo’s bouncing step as she rushed up the stairs. Castiel could hear her walking around upstairs, the wooden rafters creaking.

“Are you human?” Castiel asked and Pamela grinned before she started laughing heartily. She reached behind her and put two small glasses and a bottle with amber liquid on the counter that lay between them.

“Grab a chair Castiel and let’s drink. It’s been a while since I last drank with a queen,” she said cheerfully, filling the glasses to the brim. Castiel hesitated, but he took the offered drink. “It’ll be a while until Dean has made his round. A bit paranoid, that one. Like his folks.”

“There were protective sigils on the poles,” Castiel observed and Pamela nodded. “These lands once belonged to dark things. Angels don’t come here. We are not fearful as we are older than most of those who inhabit these regions. But we respect.”

“Yeah,” Pamela muttered, here lips still pressed to the glass. The flickering candle made her eyes look like coals and the smears of her lipstick like blood. The air in the room was heavy, rich, like the fragrance of wet earth and dense as mist. Wind blew through the crack in the door, bringing with it the sound of rustling grass and old whispers. “I am human. Sort of. Got some mixing of blood way back,” Pamela replied to Castiel’s previous question. She drained her glass and refilled both hers and Castiel’s. Castiel felt etchings under his fingertips and saw sigils carved into the countertop. They were shaped differently than what the humans had used to attack them. Castiel had seen little of them, but the sigils under his hands felt old, powerful. Castiel felt respect for them, felt their benevolence and fierce protectiveness under his palms.

“Did you teach Dean the magic he used against us?” Castiel asked after a moment of silent drinking. Pamela was not laughing now. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Castiel.

“I taught his Mommy and Daddy a few things. Protective things because that’s what I do. The other kind of magic that flows through this land is too dark for me to touch,” she explained. “I did not teach Dean how to wield runes and sigils.”

“Then who did?” Castiel wondered. If he could just see the sigils he might be able to decipher them, to understand how they had been twisted to attack. The last time the angels had been attacked this destructively it had come from within; a sickness that had spread unseen until it was too late. It had been before Castiel’s birth, but that didn’t mean the angels had forgotten. He had been taught to recognize harmful spells. He could write counter spells and traps, buffers against their magic turned to violence in the hands and mouths of humans. Pamela didn’t reply and Castiel found himself the object of her scrutiny yet again.

“Castiel. The protection of angels is no longer your job. You are the queen of humans now,” she reminded him and her words chilled him. Pamela reached out to put her hand over Castiel’s. “Listen, I know that you do not want to be part of humanity, but you’ve already been touched by it. Even if you manage to severe your ties with Dean there will always be a part of you that is human now. Do you understand?” Castiel stared into her face, stern and otherworldly in the light of the flames and he could see the monster blood in her, could see the eyes looking too closely.

“No,” he said, getting away from the counter, almost knocking over the glass. He grabbed his and Dean’s keys and, mustering a last bit of manners despite his sudden, breathless fear, wished her a good night and thanked her for her hospitability.

The stairs leading to his room were wooden and old and Castiel could see the sigils in the window frames and the iron work in front of the windows. It was darker now, almost black in the narrow corridor that stretched away from the landing. There was no light under any of the doors, there was no noise either but the dull sound of wind brushing against the wood of the walls. There were numbers etched into the keys and he searched for a door. It was another stairway up and here the walls were higher, with wide windows showing out over the dark grass lands and the fog lying over them. Benny’s lantern was a small wavering light. Like an ignis fatuus it flickered in the distance and Castiel almost threw the windows open like he had done as a child in the house of his older brother, face pressed to the glass as he saw the procession of spirts lighting up the night. Dean was out there somewhere, a foolish, young king striding around in the land of monsters.

God had let him end the reign of angels, but there were other things in the shadows, things so old and starved to swallow up those who had dug their hands into this borrowed soil. Castiel turned away and pushed the key into the lock. It turned loudly, the screeching sound of the hinges sending a shudder down his wings. He slammed the door shut and plunged himself into darkness.

* * *

 

Castiel woke with a start. He lay inside the heavy sheets and stared at the uneven, dark rafters that made up the ceiling. It was silent around him and there was only faint light coming through the window set opposite the bed. He was unsure what had caused him to wake, but when he closed his eyes again to sleep until it was no longer dawn he felt that he couldn’t. There was some nervous tingling in his fingers and the heavy silence of the room was getting to him. He sighed and got out of bed. He put his feet into the slippers next to his bed and padded over to the window. The iron was cold and the glass slightly foggy, but he managed to open it. A chilly breeze streamed into the room, ruffling his flattened hair and his feathers. It was crisp and clean with the fresh and sweet hint of Grace. He couldn’t lean out much, because there was small cage of iron around each window, but it was enough to stick out his head and look to the side. Where he saw Dean looking back at him with a smile.

“Morning, Cas,” he said and Castiel took a moment to regain his proper breathing after being startled that much. “I hope I didn’t wake you…”

“I’m not sure. Something did, but I’m not sorry to be awake,” Castiel replied and studied Dean. The king was looking at him with a calm expression, before he turned his eyes away to observe the lands.  Castiel knew there to be miles of grasslands, swamps, hills, lakes and then the line of dense forests in the distance behind which the land of the angels began.

“Were you out long yesterday?” Castiel asked after a while.

“Hm.”

“Pamela said you’d check the protection around the village.”

“Hm.”

Castiel frowned. Dean usually was more communicative than this, even when he was tired early in the morning (when he was happy to grumble about other people being more awake than he was).

“These lands make me uneasy. I hope we will leave soon,” Castiel tried again and Dean nodded. Castiel watched Dean, but he was merely looking out, his thoughts somewhere entirely different. Castiel looked out too, studying the landscape behind the inn in the light of dawn. A thick fog lay over the long grass which moved with the wind. Even though there was an uneasiness that rested on Castiel like a heavy coat as he observed the serenity of these borderlands, it did remind him of something more familiar. Of different borderlands, with different dangers lurking in the shadows, the mist and the tall trees. Maybe Dean didn’t want to talk or listen, but Castiel still decided to share:

“My brother was a sentry. He lived at the very edges of the country, towards the lands of monsters. I went to visit him when I was very little… And I was terrified of the creatures living in close vicinity. Well, more of the possibilities of the dangers that lay outside the protection of the walls of my brother’s fortress… Even now, over 400 years later, I am still afraid of what is around me here.” Dean finally seemed to have woken from whatever reverie he had been in.

“Only here?”

“My fear in your kingdom had been of a different nature,” Castiel informed him, not unkindly, but Dean understood. “At home it was different… I had no particular fear. I felt secure and untroubled before you tore down our walls. The centuries in peace had made me and others lose our apprehension of those that could throttle us.”

“Yeah…,” Dean muttered and he wiped his face. It was slightly tinged pink with the cold and looked wet with the dew.

“Maybe you should take a bath. I’ll see if Pamela has breakfast at such an early hour,” Castiel suggested. Dean nodded silently and pulled back. The window shut loudly and Castiel was left alone with the profound silence.

He didn’t particularly miss the noise of Dean’s home, but he had come to expect it. Now when he washed and dressed there was no noise of birds from the open window, no calls of children down in the street, no servants hurrying through the halls.

Castiel didn’t bother knocking at Jo’s door, just making sure that she was still sleeping peacefully before going down. Pamela was not behind the bar, but Castiel could find her in the kitchen behind it, putting logs of wood into a big stove.

“Morning, Castiel,” she said even without turning. Now that it was light, Castiel no longer felt the same apprehension when in her presence, even though Pamela’s eyes were still piercing and knowing when she turned to look at him.

“I have come to inquire about breakfast,” he said and Pamela grinned, putting a pan and a kettle on the stove.

“Sure, if you can cook?” Castiel blinked it surprise, earning himself Pamela’s amused laughter. “Come on, if you’re an adult you have to be able to cook something. Eggs maybe?”

“Well… I’m not a proper adult by angelic standards,” he protested meekly, suddenly finding himself handling a basket of eggs.

“A couple of centuries is enough to learn how to cook,” Pamela said to that and Castiel just looked at her helplessly until she took mercy on him, showing him how to make scrambled eggs.

“I have tried to cook, but my father didn’t like how it tasted, so I have not been asked to come into the kitchen again unless to make tea or help cutting things. It’s not a skill I need to have.”

“No, I guess not. Popping out kids seems to be a fulltime job,” Pamela said much to Castiel’s chagrin. Pamela clapped Castiel’s shoulder when she saw his expression. “Lucky for you, that’s not what fate had in store for you.”

“I’m not sure about that. And I wouldn’t call it luck,” Castiel said, quite offended. But he was given a tray with eggs, bacon and some bread as well as the kettle with tea.

“Take this up to your husband, don’t worry about Jo or Benny, I’ll make them something once they stumble into the kitchen. Dean’s been tossing and turning all night, so this might put him back on his feet,” Pamela said and Castiel knew that he was dismissed. He didn’t say anything else, merely tried to carry the plates up the stairs. Dean opened the door when Castiel kicked against it as gracefully as possible.

“You didn’t have to!” Dean shouted in alarm, taking the heavy tray out of Castiel’s arms even though Castiel assumed that enough strength had returned to him that it would not be any easier for Dean to manage. That thought surprised Castiel and he looked at his hands. He was stronger than Dean. Maybe not yet, but he would be. He looked over at Dean, this strong, beautiful and powerful king. He had always considered him to be overpowering, since that first day as the city was burning and his hands had been strong enough to leave bruises on Castiel’s wrist. He had been immensely powerful then. Or maybe Castiel had just been weak.

He shook his head, clearing these thoughts, and sat down opposite Dean, who was already partaking on the breakfast.

“I made it,” Castiel said, when Dean didn’t comment negatively on the food. He wasn’t forthcoming with praise either, so Castiel assumed it was edible but nothing special. He tried the bacon and the eggs and found himself pleased by it. Maybe a bit too salty.

“Yeah? Pam forced you to cook too? I thought she’d cut you some slack because you’re an angel,” Dean said with a grin. “It’s good, by the way. Well done, Cas.” Castiel felt his wings puff up at the unexpected praise and had to make a conscious effort to tame them again. But he had been happy to hear it.

“Are you better now?” he asked instead of continuing along their old topic. Dean looked up, letting Castiel study him.

“What? Yeah. I was just thinking, you know. Being away from home is always stressful,” Dean told him, his voice easy. Castiel had seen his absent expression, but he wasn’t sure if he should press it. “But I guess you understand that well.” Castiel nodded but didn’t say anything. After breakfast Dean stretched and patted his belly. “That was good, Cas. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel answered, watching Dean stretch some more.

“We’ll be heading out as soon as the sun’s up properly. The road building had to be stopped for the rain season. We’ll continue a bit later on in autumn before the snow sets in. But until then we need to travel by coach.”

“I will get packed then,” Castiel said, but before he could move to leave, Jo came into the room. Her eyes were bright and her hair tousled.

“Man, I was just outside with Benny to watch the sun rise and check the inner circle of protective sigils. It’s amazing!! I can’t believe Mom kept me locked up in your stupid city!”

“Hey, my city’s awesome,” Dean grumbled, but made no move to stop Jo from grabbing a hold of Castiel.

“I’ll have to show you around! The baker’s just opening and I think we can get something for on the way! Please, Cas!”

“Very well,” Castiel managed to say, nodding his good-bye to Dean before he was dragged out of the room to take a look at the town.

* * *

 

The fogs from the surrounding landscape reached the village by the time the sun was high enough for the people to be up and about. Even though Dean was busy with arranging their further journey as well as settling some council matters for this far away village of his kingdom, he could perceive the unrest that spread in whispers though the city.

“Majesty. Why is there an angel accompanying you?” the mayor asked when they were done and tea was being served in a little upstairs room of the town hall. Dean looked out of the window and into the main street with the little shops. He spotted Jo at once, trying on a hat, totally unaware to everything around her coming to an almost stand still. Castiel was standing next to her, holding items Jo apparently bought for herself. His wings were drawn tight to his back, making him look small and tense. As far as Dean could see he was keeping his eyes firmly on Jo. The mayor coughed and Dean looked away from the window. “I know you come in contact with angels due to your settlement in angel country, but here we’re nervous about them. I don’t want to tell you how to choose your servants, but…” he left his sentence hanging open and coughed some more when Dean frowned at him.

“He’s not my servant. He’s Castiel,” Dean said and the mayor lifted his thin, hardly visible eyebrow. Dean was almost amused. News probably travelled slowly around here. “Castiel Winchester. My wife.” The mayor widened his eyes at that, the color draining out of his already pale face.

“I knew you got yourself married to an exotic trophy wife.” Dean huffed at that but there was some truth in it. It had been that, at first, and Dean was too ashamed to even try to correct the mayor. “But an angel?”

“Well, he’s an angel and he’s my queen,” Dean told him and the mayor hummed pensively. He sipped his tea, then he rested his hands on his stomach and looked out of the window.

“What?” Dean barked, annoyed by the expression on the mayor’s face.

“Nothing. I just thought that it might be dangerous for your _queen_ out there if nobody knows who he is. Ever since you defeated them and erected your settlement to keep them in check, people have been getting more reckless. Angels are no longer what they were. People are still afraid of them, but they are no longer untouchable, they are no longer immortal and impenetrable.” Dean listened to him silently, unsure what to do with his advice. The mayor looked at him, his pale eyes still pensive, but then his eyes went back to the window. “Ah.” He rose in alarm and Dean lifted his head in confusion. Then the noise of a commotion reached the window and the mayor threw it open. Dean could hear Jo shouting something, but she didn’t sound alarmed, merely very angry. “Well, it was pretty harmless, just a stupid boy’s prank, but maybe next time it’ll be worse.” Dean shot out of the chair and leaned out of the window. He could see Jo kicking a young man, who was still laughing despite her anger. He held a copper jug in his hand that he let drop when Jo pushed him to the ground. Dean searched for Castiel, finding him completely drenched, trying to wipe his hair out of his face and his wings quivering. For a moment Dean saw red and before he knew it he was down in the square, with a gun held to the no longer laughing guy’s head.

“You apologize to the queen for your indecency,” Dean hissed and the guy had wide eyes and gaped his mouth. “NOW!!”

“I’m… I’m sorry!!” he shouted but Dean was sure that it was more out of incomprehension and fear than actual guilt.

“Dean… It’s just water,” Castiel told him, appearing at his side. His clothes were sticking to his skin and he was shivering. “Dean, put away your weapon.” They had gathered quite an audience and Dean begrudgingly put the gun away and hauled the guy to his feet. But Dean couldn’t say anything, because Castiel brushed him aside to stare into the youth’s face.  He was positively frightened now.

“You should not throw water at anyone. I hope feeling the anger of your king and Jo’s fists has been punishment enough. Collect your jug and be on your way.” The youth merely nodded and then he dashed away. Dean glared after him and then he glared at the people standing around, staring silently. “Dean… I’m cold. Can we please go back?” Dean moved at once, taking off his jacket to drape it carefully around Castiel’s wings and shoulders. He was angry, but he knew that he had reacted rashly. It was not wise to display hot-headedness to people around here. They knew him, but that didn’t mean he had their support. And this village, remote and tiny as it was, was strategically important.

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

“It’s not your fault. I had gotten used to the staring in Lawrence. But nobody there dared insult me to my face,” Castiel said, still shivering and Jo threw open the door to Pamela’s inn. Benny had apparently already heard of the water fiasco and told them that he had a warm bath and dry clothes ready for him. Dean wasn’t sorry that their further journey was delayed for another hour. He watched Jo – who was still fuming – and Castiel go up the stairs.

“Sometimes I don’t know what I was thinking,” Dean mumbled, sitting at the bar with Benny’s hand on his back, as he miserably nursed a cup of coffee.

“Only sometimes?” Benny quipped and Dean grumbled into his cup, shooting Benny a dirty glare that made the knight laugh. “Sorry brother.”

“I shouldn’t have married Castiel. I mean, it was part of the bargain and I wanted to. But I wanted him for the wrong reasons. I needed to possess him. I needed him to be a constant reminder of my power over the angels. If even I think that poorly of the angels, then what must others think?” Dean asked, but both Benny and Pamela kept their answers to themselves. “I might have changed my mind about angels and definitely about what Cas is to me, but what about the people in Lawrence? What about the people here?” He drank the rest of the coffee, too hot almost and it burned going down his throat. “Just what have I dragged Cas into?”

“You’re a poor child,” Pamela mocked, causing Dean to lift his head, glaring at her indignantly. “Come on, Dean. You can’t change the past. You decided that in order to wage war on the demons, you needed a strategically better position. And the angels were nothing but that for many of us; a potential danger that you were powerful enough to destroy.” Dean and Benny both remained silent. “Nobody of us is guilt free. We all think that angels and demons are monsters, the whole non-human lot, is worth very little. You can make amends now. Either you let Castiel return to his home and withdraw from angel country entirely so that we will be perfectly divided again. Or you’ll try to change the way people think so that you can create a safer environment for your beloved queen. A place that he might want to return to one day.”

“I doubt he ever wants to set foot into my kingdom again,” Dean said silently. From upstairs they could hear the shrieks and the laughter of Jo, as well as the sound of water splashing. The three in the bar were silent until Pamela heaved a sigh and patted Dean’s cheek.

“That’s not for you to decide,” she advised. Dean didn’t say anything. He knew he’d have to let go of Castiel as soon as the angel wished it. Returning to the previous situation was impossible too, because the threat of the demons was still there. It was still possible that they would come out again and raid the lands. If Dean could prevent another slaughter like the one that had cost his parents’ lives, then he would. So he had to find a way to keep his superior position in angel country, but still create a less hostile atmosphere. He owed it to those who had lost their family and he owed it to Cas especially.

Dean shook his head.

“You okay, Dean?” Benny asked, his expression concerned and kind. Dean shrugged.

“I’ll be better once I know Cas feels safe,” he confessed and Benny’s eyes softened.

“Yeah. It’ll be fine, you’ll see,” he promised and Dean gave another shrug. He wished. He wished.

* * *

 

Jo had tried her best to distract Castiel, but after 5 hours she slowly dozed off. Now her head was resting on Castiel’s shoulder as she slept. Benny was in front, guiding the horse drawn carriage, while the other three sat in the small space. It was comfortable, Dean felt, made of fragrant, light wood, with cushioned benches. Not a pompous, huge thing like the one they brought out for ceremonies. Just a small travelling carriage. And this might be just the problem for Castiel.

“It smells different but I can’t stop thinking about it,” Castiel said silently, after the fifth time Dean asked if he was feeling alright. “It was dark and smelled of ash. I didn’t know where you would be taking me. I know we’re going to the settlement now, but if I close my eyes for just a short while, it feels like I’m back.”

“You don’t have to go back, Cas,” Dean reassured him gently. “I’ll never force you to do that again. I will never push you into another carriage and take you away from where you want to be.” Castiel shook his head but didn’t say anything. “Please, Cas…”

“I believe you, Dean. I believe what you say, but just because you promise me freedom, doesn’t mean I actually have it.” Castiel was looking into his eyes, silent now. Dean held his gaze. He longed to reach out and touch his knees and comfort him in any way.

They rode in silence for what felt like another hour. Jo slept on and Castiel was staring at his hands in his lap, his feathers rustling every once in a while. Dean watched him, taking in how his eyes still shone brightly even in the diminished light of the carriage, how his feathers moved gently with the rattling of their vehicle and the breaths he took. Jo was mumbling something but not waking up, rubbing her nose against Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel raised his head to look at Jo, his eyes softening. Dean felt himself smile at the view and tried not to feel too sad that he would probably never be at the receiving end of such a tender look.

Dean looked away to the door when he felt the carriage slow down and then come to a stop.

“Border control,” he heard Benny call from the front and Dean excused himself to climb into the front. The guard bowed to him as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle.

“Your Majesty,” the guard said and Dean let himself be checked with the usual precautions they took against supernatural creatures. When the silver, the iron and the blessed water didn’t harm him, he vouched for the people accompanying him – he really didn’t want to subject Cas to any of the monster tests - and the heavy gates were opened. He walked beside the carriage as they slowly rolled into the courtyard where all vehicles were checked and unloaded. Dean looked up at the sky, where the sun was starting to set, sending the sky ablaze with bright orange hues. He smiled, seeing the black flags with the crest of Winchester flutter on top of the watch towers.

“We’re here,” he said when he heard the rustle of feathers. He turned around to hold out his hand to Castiel to help him down the steps. Castiel took his offered hand, but let him go again when his feet touched the ground. Dean saw and heard him breathe in loudly, his eyes wide as he looked around.

“Welcome to Kings Field,” Dean said with a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Kings Field’s wide streets were lined with the pearly shimmering stones that Castiel knew from the courtyard in the library. The houses were made of sturdy stone, white facades embellished by colorful emblems painted along decorative wooden beams. The high windows were all painted with sigils, the door frames lined with runes. It was a light city with a sparkling fountain in the market square, overlooked by a red building made of bricks. Flags of Winchester fluttered in the Grace infused breeze, flowers grew in round beds circling the square. For a new city that had been built in a rush with the aim to control the angel capital it looked deceptively lovely.

It made Castiel uneasy. There was Grace swirling in the air, but it puffed out, unseen by humans, before it could seep into anything. The floor and buildings and flowers were empty. Human, foreign in these grounds that had once belonged to the flower fields of Elysium. Dean told him the purpose of the houses and who lived where and while Castiel was paying close attention his eyes flitted around to take in the foreign sigils that seemed to be everywhere.

Jo was very excited next to Castiel and she kept talking to Benny about the duties of a member of the guard in the service of the settlement. Castiel tried to shut their chatter out, as he concentrated on memorizing as many of the sigils he saw repeated on every building, trying to decipher a pattern.

“Cas?” Castiel gave a start and turned to look at Dean. In front of him was a woman, who eyed him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “Did you hear anything I said?” Dean asked with a laugh and Castiel bit his lips.

“I must have been too distracted by the architecture. My apologies,” he said, fully turning to the shorter woman. She wore elegant clothes; pants and a matching jacket over a silk blouse, her hair short like Dean’s and another coat wrapped around her. “You have my full attention now.”

“Don’t sweat it, honey,” Dean said cheerfully and Castiel tried to be at ease when Dean so clearly was unworried in the presence of this woman. He hadn’t been as carefree when with the mayor in the last town and he had been too lost in thoughts to enjoy Pamela’s bantering. Here he seemed happy. “I just wanted to introduce you to the person in charge of Kings Field; Jody Mills. She used to be the chief of the kings’ guard and she volunteered to watch over this city for me.” Castiel nodded at her. “And Jody? You’ve seen Castiel at the wedding.” Jody nodded, but after a while her frown lifted and she smiled, holding out her hand to Castiel.

“It is a pleasure meeting you properly, Queen of Winchester,” Jody said, her grip on his hand strong and comforting for some reason. “The last time I saw you you appeared sickly and distraught. I hope you have recovered slightly from the loss of your home.” Surprised, Castiel took a moment to answer her.

“Thank you. I feel I am learning to adapt,” he replied. Jody nodded wordlessly at that, then she turned her head to Dean, a small smile on her lips as she lifted her eyebrows.

“What is it?” Dean asked, with a small frown.

“Well, it’s just that it didn’t quite feel real before,” she said, then she reached out to pinch Dean’s cheek. “Little Dean married.”

“Cut it out, Jody,” Dean grumbled. “Anyway, we’ll need a proper feast because I want everyone to know that Cas is here. We’ve had a bit of an incident in Barnes Grove and I don’t want a repeat performance of it. I know people’s stance on angels, but Castiel is dear to me and he is the queen.”

“Yeah? Not just a fancy title to entertain you and get the angelic king off your back?” Jody asked, her voice a bit harsh but Dean didn’t flinch.

“I think Castiel can grow into the role. Heck, he’s better at governing than I am,” Dean muttered.

“I am over 500 years your senior. Of course I know things you don’t know,” Castiel spoke up, getting annoyed at Dean berating himself in front of others. He had been taught to preserve the honor of his husband, so maybe his annoyance was a residue of this teaching. Besides, he also knew how a king was supposed to present himself in order to gain others’ respect. Dean’s mumbling and muttering wasn’t necessarily what Castiel expected of a king giving orders. Jody laughed, while Dean looked at Castiel with a mix of surprise and embarrassment.

“I’ll get you your feast, don’t worry, King Winchester,” Jody told him with a smile, putting her hands inside her overcoat. “I’ve had your house prepared and the lodge for Castiel’s invited guests is ready for tomorrow evening. That’s when their passes should be cleared, sorry for the delay, but we’ve had a busy few days.”

“Thank you for your hard work. I will be pleased to see my sisters again,” Castiel told her formally, bowing slightly.

“You’re welcome. And I hope you’ll enjoy your stay in Kings Field, your Majesty.”

“Castiel will suffice,” Castiel told her and other than Ellen Jody pulled the corner of her lip up into a smile and accepted the informal address. Jody said her good-bye and returned to the building overlooking the market place.

“Nothing much happens here when the market is done. It is not really a proper town yet. We can go to our place,” Dean explained, waving at Benny and Jo.

“Isn’t Jo staying with me?” Castiel asked in confusion when they parted ways. “I should watch over her.”

“It’s safe here, Cas. They’re just making a short tour through the borders and then they’re back home. I promise. And the house has guest rooms for Benny and Jo.” Castiel watched Jo leave, a happy bounce in her step that she hadn’t had back in the city. He sighed and nodded. Dean grinned and then he led them across the square and a bit further into the city, closer to the walls that surrounded the settlement. It was very quiet here, with orbs fastened to the buildings’ wall that emitted a faint glow. The house Dean approached was behind a small park and had flowers growing around it. It was three stories high and, while not big, still of moderate size. The path leading up to the house was painted with signs and on the porch was a key of Solomon.

“You’re well-guarded,” Castiel observed when they crossed a threshold fortified with iron and, if he could feel it correctly, purifying salt under the floor boards. The entrance hall was bright, all white wood and white walls.

“It’s necessary,” was all Dean said, then he guided him through the house. There were no servants, Castiel figured out. It was a regular town house and if there wasn’t some sort of humming in Castiel’s ears that he attributed to the sigils he would feel quite comfortable.

“That’s the master bedroom, I… I need to figure out how exactly we’ll do it, because there’s only one bed. But I can share with Benny and-“ Castiel didn’t hear what else Dean was saying as soon as he stepped into the room. Castiel gasped when he walked into a barrier. His wings jerked outwards with the shock and he took a step backwards, away from the door. He looked around, wide eyed, until he found red symbols painted around the door frame and when he squinted he saw the glow of more hidden under pictures hanging on the wall.

“Cas?” Dean asked, poking his head back out, his expression worried when he took in Castiel’s state, wings still fully outstretched. He was staring and Castiel assumed that Dean hasn’t seen them like that yet. He slowly pulled them back in, trying to regain his composure.

“I cannot enter. There is a barrier that keeps angels out,” he observed as calmly as he could. He saw the color drain from Dean’s face.

“Shit! I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think of that!” he said, reaching out for Castiel’s hands. “Are you hurt?” he asked, looking first at Castiel’s hands then the rest of him. His hold was gentle and with that point of contact Castiel was surprised to feel a rush of emotion that Dean was projecting.

Worry, concern, shame, guilt, adoration.

He gasped and Dean quickly let go of him, making the sensations dull and then disappear.

“I’m sorry. My powers are returning to me,” he said but Dean just shook his head in incomprehension. “If I can’t enter, I can find a different location to sleep. I will not need many hours this close to home.” The change of topic caused Dean to move again and he went into the room and came back with a thick pencil.

“No, I’ll just scratch those away,” he told Castiel. He hesitated, but then he crossed some of the sigils through. He was apparently reluctant to give up on this protection.

“Dean… I will not let any angel come and harm you while you are here,” he said and Dean looked over his shoulder to frown at him. He didn’t say anything, merely stepped back into the room.

“Try again?” Castiel sighed, unsure what Dean’s look had meant, and passed through the door.

The master bedroom was quite spacious, with high, still bare walls. It contained the same luxuries that Castiel knew from Winchester castle, but there was something distinctly clean about it. The rooms of the castle had been filled with objects from all time periods of human settlement on this continent, as well as lots of traded goods. This room was new. A new bed, with a matching wardrobe, and matching table.

“I hope you like it,” Dean said, pulling at the bedspread to get rid of some crease. “Anything you’d like to change you can do. If you want to import furniture from your home town I’m sure we can arrange it.”

“It is fine as it is,” Castiel assured him, looking at all the spaces which were still empty, ready to be decorated. It was clear that this place was not as lived in as Dean’s room and that he probably did not think of it as a home in the same way the castle was. Castiel wasn’t sure what this would be for him. Another temporary home?

“Yeah?” Dean asked, apparently relieved. He shrugged off his coat and Castiel caught a glimpse of weapons he had under his jacket. “Well, then I’ll drop by the post office. How about you relax before we’ll have the dinner? I’m sure you’re tired from the journey.” Castiel nodded silently and Dean smiled. He reached out and put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“I’m glad that you’re closer to home now,” he said, his voice honest, even though he made no great effort to conceal the sadness in his eyes. Castiel was too surprised to reply, so Dean just pressed a light kiss into his hair, like he tended to do with Charlie and on very rare occasions with Sam, then he left the room. Castiel was left to ponder the sense of regret that he felt at Dean’s obvious sadness.

* * *

 

Castiel was sitting next to Dean, listening to a somewhat stilted seeming conversation about the merits of using some of the Elysian fields for a particular type of wheat.

“Some are holy lands to commemorate the war of Lucifer’s Fall. We do not grow anything but flowers on them,” Castiel had commented when asked what he thought about which type of seed would be best and that had brought the conversation to a sort of embarrassed sounding muttering why empty fields should still be used until it came to a close. Dean prompted them to talk about roads instead and the conversation picked up again after some time.

Castiel didn’t feel particularly comfortable, even though he was quite fond of the simple circlet that Dean had gifted him with earlier today. He was here as the Queen of Winchester and even though that wasn’t really what he wanted to be, he did not mind to wear the signs of it. It was still some power and he hoped that it would make these people show him at least a bit of respect, even though it might only be as a means to please Dean.

As he still had no other clothes from home but the ones he wore when he had been taken and his wedding gown, he was dressed in the now familiar human garments. He wasn’t sure what the people had expected the “Angel of house Winchester” to look like, but he could tell that he wasn’t quite the thing that they had thought him to be. Maybe that pleased him, and it certainly pleased Jody.

“Look at them being confused. This is just a military town, you know. They do pretend to be a trading place of sorts, but honestly, they have no sense of diplomacy.”

“Why do you say that?” Castiel asked, standing next to her at an open window. He looked into the room, but then lifted his hand. “Jo! I think you’ve had enough for today, please just drink water or juice from now on,” he said when he saw Jo carrying two bottles of wine to Dean’s table, the intention to drink at least half of them was pretty clear. She looked at him with an exasperated expression.

“He’s right, young lady. If you want to be part of the guard you’ll have to be in top shape every morning,” Jody added and Jo’s annoyance swiftly changed to determination. She still carried the bottles to the table, but sat down in Castiel’s chair with only a glass of juice. Jody smiled, looking at Castiel.

“Your mom voice is already quite good. Do you have any kids?” Jody asked, “or younger siblings?” Castiel shook his head, slightly amused by the assumption.

“No… I’m the youngest and I recently came of age,” Castiel said, “and you?”

“Yeah. Got a little boy. He’s at home with my husband,” Jody explained, looking out of the window wistfully. Castiel couldn’t see past the walls that enclosed Kings Field, but he could see the stars and the light of his city lighting up the sky in the North.

“I thought about taking him with me, you know? But it’s dangerous here so close to the angels and with the demons still out there. Still I… I don’t know… I just want him near and protect him even though it’s mostly selfish.”

“This town is well guarded,” Castiel assured her, looking around at the sigils. “I can’t guarantee it, but I assume he would be safe here.” Jody smiled at him, but he could see in the sad look in her eyes that she would probably not change her mind.

“Sometimes it’s best to put aside personal interests for the greater good,” she told him but Castiel just frowned at that. He had had his fair share of feeling the consequences of what people assumed to be the greater good.

“I don’t know if I agree,” Castiel told her and Jody looked at him with interest. “Why did you come here anyway? You could have remained at home with your child.”

“Someone had to.”

“There are other people. Victor or Benny for example, both members of the guards and as far as I know not in a committed relationship for the time being” Castiel told her with a frown and maybe his expression was sterner than he would have liked it to be, but Jody wasn’t particularly fazed by it.

“I consider it my duty. I’m good at guarding. Victor is clever, but he doesn’t have an open mind yet. He’s wonderful on the battle field, but erecting a fortress without putting too much pressure on the supernatural creatures? I’m not sure he is ready for that,” Jody explained and Castiel didn’t know the knight well enough to be able to contradict her. “Benny’s soft and gentle, but gets stuff done. He would probably be good here, but Benny is Dean’s closest friend. Taking away a voice of reason and babysitter isn’t such a good idea. I feel he’d be better off staying where Dean is.” Jody shrugged. “So there was me. It’s the duty I accepted when I became the head of the guard and my husband and I both knew that I might have to put my duty before my family one day.” Castiel sighed but didn’t comment on that. Jody’s decisions weren’t his own and it was not his place to judge her or criticize her for it. He wasn’t sure what he would have done. He did have a sense of duty, but duty certainly didn’t make him want to yield to Dean’s initial aggressive behavior.

“Being a mother is a duty for me. At least it was. I’m not sure if I would feel grief leaving my children, but I also don’t think that I would have been given purpose beyond making sure our kind prospers until I’ve had about ten,” he said and the change of topic surprised Jody.

“Really? Was that the same for your mom?” she asked and Castiel nodded.

“My mother had learned to fight as she was born around the time when we still were at war with the demons. She was a soldier before maturity as it set in quite late. Then she was a mother for well over a thousand years. She died when she had to pick up the sword again. Many did. And king Michael…” Castiel shook his head. “Most mothers died in the war against you and I was given away to a human. It will be a millennium at least until we will no longer be on the brink of extinction. So being a mother… It should be my duty. Maybe even more now than it was before.” Jody looked at him, the shock clear on her face.

“I’m so sorry to hear that Castiel,” she told him, hand on her chest and her face stricken. He knew how honest she was about it and he appreciated it even though the absolute ignorance of almost everybody to the consequences of their king’s actions (whether they condoned them or not) saddened and sometimes even angered him. “What will happen to you now? I can see in yours and Dean’s interaction that you don’t have a real relationship going.”

“I don’t know. I came here to figure that out,” he replied and Jody nodded in silence. She put her hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“You’ll be fine. Whatever you need around here, just let me know. I’ll try to make your stay here as agreeable as possible, no matter how long it’ll be.” He darted a look over to some of the other people gathering around Dean that sometimes sent him dark looks.

“But what about them? I don’t think they will be particularly agreeable to me being here. I would please them as a trophy, but not as a queen.”

“Oh, let that be my concern. This is still my town, Castiel,” she said and winked at him. “Just let me relieve Dean for a moment, he looks properly exhausted.” Castiel looked over at Dean and while he didn’t seem exhausted there was an air of irritation about him that none of the men seemed to notice. Castiel let Jody go and leant back against the window sill. He traced the red sigils with a finger, feeling the sizzle of their energy. It was just a small spell, not too strong, but it was well woven into the other spells framing the window. Power, protection and purification. It was a good shield against a number of creatures Castiel knew. He grabbed a pen off a table next to him and carefully added a sign to a faulty rune. He felt the air around the window shift a bit, the symbols gaining strength. He also added a sigil to the window sill, giving the architecture of the protection a stronger basis. It would be more difficult to breech now.

“What does that sigil mean?” Some of Castiel’s feathers hit Dean in the face when Castiel turned in surprise. “Sorry,” Dean muttered, but didn’t reach out to smooth the slightly messed up feathers on the arch of Castiel’s wing. Castiel quickly returned the wings to their proper state, before he looked at the rune that he had drawn on the sill.

“It’s an old rune, the name of a deity of past ages. If you use spells that protect houses you can make any spell stronger by adding it to the base symbols you build the rest on. There are different symbols for different kinds of buildings. But for a place where people gather it’s the best,” Castiel told him. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and sat down on the sill after a while to silently look up at Castiel. “What?”

“I appreciate you telling me that. I just thought maybe you’d like to guard your secrets well, like the other angels.”

“My skills are meant to be used, not to be hidden away,” Castiel said, unsure if he should be slightly offended. “Besides,” he continued, looking around the house at some of the symbols he was only slowly becoming familiar with. “Some of them are wrong.”

“Oh. I guess. I can correct-“

“Not that kind of wrong,” Castiel interrupted him, holding Dean’s gaze. The king looked at him in confusion for a while, before his eyebrows lifted in understanding and he turned his face away. “Grace cannot live here. It flows everywhere in angel country, but it cannot settle. It cannot make the ground Kings Field is built on prosper. It cannot clean it, purify it or protect it. Foreign symbols or symbols that have been modified cause cracks and a bad aura. The wrongness of some of them makes something in my core quiver with anxiety.”

“Does it hurt you?” Dean asked, concerned now. Castiel thought about that, but then he shook his head.

“No, but it isn’t comforting either to see thwarted symbols and demonic signs etched into the walls that surround me,” he told Dean. Dean sighed and nodded, at what Castiel wasn’t sure. He sat down next to Dean, looking at the people in the room.

“I talked to them. I hope they’ll recognize you as their queen. I just don’t want you to have any trouble here,” Dean said after a while. “Teaching them to not hate angels will not be easy.”

“I don’t expect it to be easy. It’s not like the angels have any love for your kind now. But it’s in your hands how the relationship between angels and humans will continue,” Castiel said, “and I don’t know if your men here will accept me as a queen. They probably don’t know how to interpret you having married an angel. They don’t know what I am to you.”

“They know only the worst,” Dean muttered. Castiel frowned.

“Guilt will not get you anywhere, Dean. You can either present me as a symbol of your conquest or as a symbol of a fruitful union. What kind of figurehead you want me to be lies in how you play it.”

“I don’t want to _play it_ , Cas,” Dean hissed, silently enough for him not to be heard, though the tension in his posture and his expression was visible to anyone who would look their way.

“I will take the autonomy you apparently wish me to have. Gladly, Dean,” Castiel said, ignoring Dean’s previous protest. “But if you do not visibly support your own wife, then I might not be taken seriously or they might believe me to be a threat that needs to be eliminated.” Dean shot up at that, alarmed at once. He stepped closer towards Castiel, but not too close for him to feel uncomfortable, and took on a protective stance, eyeing the room with suspicion. “Stop that,” Castiel said with a frown. “Unless they know the kind of magic you do or have access to holy oil then the most likely outcome of an attack on me will be that I kill the aggressors.” As a tactician and a future mother Castiel had not been required to kill and it was not something he wished to do, but he was sure that given the chance he would try. If pushed, he would burn the soul out of all the rotten humans without blinking. The thought almost startled him.

“They do know how to use magic, at least those who fought at my side in the army,” Dean said.

“Well, then protect me better,” Castiel challenged. He knew that he was manipulating Dean at this point, urging him to make a decision. Dean grabbed his hand and even though the movement had been brisk, the hold on Castiel was gentle. Again he could feel various emotions running through Dean thanks to their small point of contact.

“I will do everything I can if you will let me protect you. I adore you. I won’t have to pretend that I do. If my conscience was clear, I’d hold you and kiss you with abandon. I’d show everyone just what you mean to me,” he lifted Castiel’s hand to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand. He looked at Castiel, his eyes clouded with regret. “But it isn’t. I understand that you see strategic merit in posturing. You are an able tactician, I know that now. If you need our marriage to be a strategy then that is what I will do for you. But for me it isn’t. For me you are-“ Castiel raised his hand, pressing his fingertips to Dean’s lips.

“Peace, Dean,” Castiel said and stepped a bit closer to kiss his forehead. “This is not the place for agitation or your guilt.”

“It is _exactly_ the place for my guilt,” Dean said, loud enough to turn the heads of two people close by. “If I don’t tell anyone that I did wrong, then they won’t learn!” Castiel was slightly surprised by the desperation Dean projected and even though he was stunned, he nodded.

“I understand. But even if it is the place, now is not the time.” Dean lifted his hands, pressing his palms to his face, rubbing it before letting them fall again.

“Fine,” he said in defeat, but soon his expression turned to uncertainty. “But you will have to tell me the boundaries. You tell me where and when to touch and when to stop.”

“Very well,” Castiel agreed. The two people were still eyeing them and Castiel found Benny looking at them with worry in his eyes. “Introduce me to your generals. Start with Benny,” Castiel told Dean. “And then we will go to bed. This meeting has taken enough of our evening.” Dean sighed, but he nodded, putting the flat of his palm on the center of Castiel’s back, below where his wings came through the fabric.

His hand was warm on Castiel’s back and he felt the still undefeated spark of hope that Dean harbored in his chest. Castiel didn’t know what to do about it, but he smiled at Benny when they went to exchange formalities.

He did know how to be a good wife. He would also know how to be a queen.

* * *

 

Castiel sat on the bed, combing his hair while Dean was sitting in an armchair, elbows propped up on his knees and face in his hands. The evening had been tiring but they had at least been able to reduce the doubtful glares that had been sent Castiel’s way. According to Jody most people still didn’t quite know what to make of an angel being their new queen. But some of them were at least convinced that Dean meant it when he said that Castiel was his queen and that he was not to be messed with. That Castiel had their trust was unlikely, but it wasn’t something that he wanted to acquire despite what Dean seemed to want for him. He wasn’t sure why, but Castiel felt that Dean was trying to tie him into the life at Kings Field. Castiel put the hair brush down and looked to the side, where a big window was showing over the roofs of the surrounding houses and the top of the city wall. There were still fields between them, but Castiel could see the faint light of his home lighting up the sky in the distance. The taste of Grace and the hum of the Host was in the air, faint and hollow sounding, but it still gave Castiel the courage he needed.

“Maybe you should go to bed,” Castiel told Dean, when his husband seemed to be nodding off.

“Mmmh.” Castiel watched him for a while longer. He didn’t react when he got into bed, neither when Castiel switched off the light. Dean was cast into shadows, the moonlight the only thing that illuminated part of the room. Castiel felt sadness, but he couldn’t be entirely sure if he was picking up on Dean’s emotions or if he did in fact feel compassion for the hunched over form of this boy.

He heaved a sigh. He did have some regard for Dean. He had always felt something for him, though fear or grief had overpowered the more subtle emotions that were tying him to the king. He did not think much of them, felt no particular shame for seeing still something good in the man who had wronged him. But Castiel wasn’t stupid. He knew that he needed Dean to be returned to freedom, or at least that a big portion of his personal happiness depended on what the inexperienced and rash king did.

“Will you lie down?” Castiel asked and Dean finally stirred.

“Yeah… Yeah, sorry. You want to sleep. I’ll see if Benny has some space,” Dean said silently and got up on his feet.

“No. You can stay here.” Dean stilled and even in the dim light Castiel could see his wide eyed look.

“But…” Dean protested weakly, but he didn’t continue. Both knew that there was little else he wanted more than climb into the bed next to Castiel. He quickly undressed and grabbed a loose shirt from the wardrobe. Castiel felt the bed dip and for a moment his heart started beating faster despite him feeling unthreatened.

“Good night, sweetheart,” Dean mumbled.

“Good night, Dean.”

Each had their own blanket and their own cushion and there was a lot of distance between them, but for some reason Castiel felt like the space between them was suddenly smaller than it had been for a long time.

He fell asleep to the gentle breathing of Dean and the hum of Grace and song in the back of his mind.

* * *

 

With the break of dawn Castiel awoke. The entire room was silent and bathed in familiar light, so for a moment Castiel felt both a sense of disorientation and familiarity. There was a solid warmth next to him and when he turned his head to the side he found Dean’s face close to his. He was surprised, but a glance over his shoulder told him that his side of the bed was empty and that he had invaded Dean’s space. He turned his head back around, looking at the king’s sleeping face. He was very beautiful, his face full of freckles brought out by the summer sun. Castiel reached out, pressing his finger tips to Dean’s forehead. One day it would have been easy to murder him with a gentle brush to his freckled skin. He slowly spread his fingers pressing his palm to Dean’s forehead. He felt the puffs of Dean’s breath on his wrist. Shallow, quick and hot. Castiel watched him, but after a while he slipped his hand down to cup Dean’s cheek. He watched Dean bite his lips and saw moisture gathering under his lashes.

“Shh…,” he whispered when the tears slid down Dean’s cheeks and shuddering breaths left his now open mouth. Dean reached out and wound his hands around Castiel’s waist, pulling him close enough to be able to press his face into Castiel’s chest. He hesitated slightly before he kissed Dean’s hair.

“I deserve it,” Dean breathed hoarsely against Castiel’s chest while his hands clung to his back.

“No, Dean,” Castiel said, his palm now slipping to the back of Dean’s head. “I don’t want to hurt you. Your death would not bring me any joy. It would be just another death and another regret.” Dean didn’t say anything, but the desperate hold he had on Castiel eased slightly. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Can I just lie here for a while?”

“You may,” Castiel told him gently and Dean fell asleep again in Castiel’s arms.

* * *

 

Dean was back to his old self, cheerful but slightly sleepy, almost as if nothing had happened the night before. Castiel knew though that something had changed, that he had allowed for something to change.

He busied his mind with other things than pondering that he had essentially demanded of Dean to treat him like the man he had married instead of the man he had conquered. Jo was accompanying him today, even though she was reluctant to stay with him and by the time the bell on the market place announced that it was noon, Castiel let her go. He wandered through the streets, getting to know the small town. Most of the newly built houses stood empty and there was still a lot of open space, roads and light fixtures leading nowhere. It was not a proper city yet. It felt more like a warning. A memorial almost, not that the angels would forget the invasion of humans anytime soon. When he was greeted it was with respect, whether it had been given to him willingly or not. One of the gates in the firm wall surrounding Kings Field was open, guards on both sides checking a carriage with goods. Castiel slipped past them with little protest and then the wide plains were before him. A light wind carried with it the welcome feeling of Grace dancing in the air, the flowers were blooming, making the ground shine in hues of blue and purple and gold, all the way to the not so distant city of his old home.

“My Queen? We’re closing the doors again until your guests arrive,” one of the guards spoke up and Castiel took a moment to react, having difficulties tearing his eyes away from the familiar sight. “My Queen.”

“Yes… My apologies,” Castiel said, retreating and seeing the heavy doors slam shut with some regret. He walked back along the wall, sometimes stopping to look at flowers or some of the symbols he didn’t recognize. It took him quite long to return to Dean’s house and when he did he found it empty and silent. With nothing to do and unaware of Dean’s whereabouts, he sat down in a room that looked like Dean used it as his study, and started recreating the symbols he had found all over, trying to decipher them.

By the time Dean returned to the house, groaning about something, Castiel had been able to pull the symbols and sigils apart, figuring out how some of them worked and what they had been based on. He had so lost himself in the task that he hadn’t noticed the hours passing.

“Hey,” Dean greeted and put a tray with tea and some snacks on the table. He put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. His touch didn’t particularly linger and he soon sat down, offering Castiel a cup of tea. “What have you been doing all day?”

“Walking and studying,” Castiel replied, feeling a bit apprehensive when Dean looked at the notes strewn about the table. “I was able to understand some of the sigils around this town, but I don’t think that they are the ones that were used to defeat us.” Castiel saw Dean stop his movement and then force himself to relax again. “There has been no time for the spells you used to be given to our spell workers, so I’m not sure what they were. The symbols around here seem mostly protective, though I have found some along the city wall that seemed more offensive in nature than defensive.”

“You have spell workers?” Dean asked, breaking apart a scone and spreading butter on it. Castiel watched his movements.

“Yes of course we do, every tactician also has to learn spellwork, but don’t distract from the subject,” Castiel reprimanded and Dean chewed his food with a guilty expression. Castiel huffed and leant back in his chair, looking over the notes on his table. “Sam said that humans invented lots of spells to protect themselves. But how exactly did you manage to turn ancient protective spells into something this aggressive? Where did your army learn this magic?” Dean kept quiet, his mouth stubbornly pressed together. Castiel knew that he still had no particular interest in answering, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. “At least tell me why you don’t want to tell me,” Castiel demanded and when Dean only made a move to get more tea, Castiel decided to be a bit more drastic. He put his hand on Dean’s thigh, squeezing softly but insistently. The desired effect set in and Dean instantly covered Castiel’s hand with his own, making sure it would stay there for as long as possible.

“You’re trying to teach me tricks as if I’m a dog,” Dean said with a snort, but his face was red and slightly annoyed. “I’ll tell you something you want to know and you give me the touch I crave. Right?”

“Is it working?” Castiel asked hopefully and Dean barked out a laugh. He lifted Castiel’s hands off his thigh, bringing it to his mouth to kiss.

“Of course, honey,” Dean said against the smooth skin of the back of Castiel’s hand. He kissed it again, then set it down on the table. Dean combed his hand through his hair, sighing, but then he grabbed an empty sheet of paper and started drawing. Castiel flinched when he saw the symbol.

“My father managed to secure some demonic knowledge that he sent to us before he was taken and killed. I have a whole journal filled with his notes,” Dean told him silently and crossed the symbol out again before he tore the paper apart. He was silent after that, at least for a while, because Castiel could see in the tense line of his shoulders that he still meant to tell him more.

Castiel didn’t know much about the late king of Winchester. He had fallen in a skirmish with demons only a couple of years ago, but most of the time small human tragedies like these didn’t concern the angels. Humans died and new kings ascended the throne far too fast for angels to really be concerned. Of course Castiel recalled how Metatron’s voice had resounded through the host and Castiel could hear the words in his ears again: “John Winchester is dead. Long live Dean.” It was how they always announced the passing of human kings since the first time they had settled on their shores. It was no more interesting to the angels than the passing of seasons. Even a king killed by demons was not king Michael’s concern. That was probably what had ruined them though, Castiel thought with a heavy heart.

“We had hoped that the angels would help us. Villages had been raided and a lot of members of the royal family had died at the hands of demons. I don’t understand how Michael could have refused.” Dean’s voice called Castiel out of his thoughts.

“It was not the angels’ concern. There had not been a strong shift in power, at least Michael didn’t feel that we were threatened.”

“Yeah, right. Demons getting reckless enough to attack humans for no reason wasn’t enough for him to help,” Dean hissed.

“If I understood correctly your father tried to move against the demons. It might have been considered an act of aggression on his part. Demons tend to annihilate threats they think they can handle without consulting their leaders. I am sure that Michael did not want to risk an all-out war.”

“But-“

“We have seen one of those before, Dean. It didn’t only tear apart the unity of angels, it also ravaged the lands, turning a big part of the continent into a wasteland,” Castiel interrupted him sternly. “I understand that for you it was an immense tragedy. But angels…” Castiel sighed, leaning back in his chair when he felt a deep sadness weigh down on him. “They consider the big picture.”

“Big picture my ass.”

“I don’t love demons either, Dean. And I have also felt how terrible it is when your happiness is sacrificed to preserve the happiness of others. But despite this I still feel that the act of some shouldn’t doom the entire species.” Dean looked at Castiel, his expression doubtful. He shook his head.

“So what would you have done if your parents had been murdered and nobody helped you?” Dean demanded and Castiel looked at him sharply, disdain in his eyes, which made Dean wince.

“Cas… Cas, I’m _sorry_. I didn’t think.”

“Of course you didn’t. That’s your and my problem,” Castiel answered reproachfully, shaking his head. “But I don’t know, Dean. There are other ways to seek justice than to drag people that are not connected to your suffering into despair.” Dean didn’t say anything to that. “Do you feel like you grieve less about your parents now that you are here?” Dean raised his head, which he had lowered in defeat before, his green eyes meeting Castiel’s quizzically. He took a moment to answer, but then he shook his head.

“I’m not there yet. I still have to fight the demons.”

“Don’t think about them like that,” Castiel admonished him gently, his voice calmer than he actually felt inside. “We talked about this before, Dean. Don’t forget that within this faceless evil you feel you need to destroy, there are people like you and me. Don’t just wage war like that again.” Dean lowered his head and Castiel grabbed his hand. “Promise me. Do not just take your army into foreign lands. Do not destroy the villages. Don’t accept the collateral damage. Don’t accept that you will orphan children, maybe even kill them. Assassinate the one who killed your family if it makes you sleep better at night, but if you don’t promise me that you will be a wiser king now, I will stop you, Dean.” Dean looked at him in surprise, wincing slightly as Castiel squeezed Dean’s wrist.

“Are you threatening me, Cas?” Dean asked and even though he had one eye squeezed shut at the small pain of Castiel’s strong hold, he managed to grin mockingly. Castiel frowned and dropped Dean’s hand.

“Yes, I thought that was obvious,” Castiel told him, quite offended that Dean actually dared to make a joke of it now. He rose from his chair, but Dean reached out, taking hold of both of Castiel’s hands.

“I’m sorry. Yes. I promise,” he heard Dean say and looked down at him. He let Dean hold him a bit firmer, while he studied Dean’s face, trying to find honesty in his eyes, trying to work past the mix of emotions that were inside of him. “Cas. I promise. I won’t give you a reason to hurt me.”

“Good,” Castiel agreed slowly, somewhat reluctant, because he still wasn’t sure if Dean was honest. Maybe Dean didn’t even know himself if he had just told him a lie. Dean cleared his throat after a long period of silence and reached out for some papers.

“Anyway… Don’t you have to meet your sisters? They should be here any time now,” Dean told him and Castiel blinked in surprise. He looked out of the window and saw that the sun was on its way down. It would still be light outside for a couple of hours, but it was later than he had thought. Castiel pulled in his wings to not hit Dean in the face in his hurry to leave the room. “Don’t worry, Cas! You look perfect, no need to change!” He heard Dean shout after him. Castiel still went to their room to put on different clothes. Clothes that looked less distinctively human.

Dean was holding open the door for him when he came back downstairs. He set the small circlet on Castiel’s head again.

“And there you go, my Queen,” Dean said with a smile, “you look beautiful.” Castiel didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded. “I will see you later. I hope you’ll enjoy their visit.” Castiel looked at him, nervous now that he was finally meeting his sisters again. He said his good-byes and then he hurried down the street to the gate where he hoped his sisters would come through.


	8. Chapter 8

 

Castiel could feel Hester and Rachel before he was able to see them. The halo of song and Grace that surrounded them was as bright as ever and made Castiel shrink back a bit in shame. When the two stood at the gate, dressed in the finest robes, their white wings arching proud and dominating above them Castiel felt like weeping. Rachel caught his eyes while Hester kept them stoutly averted while they had their passes checked by the guards. Her eyes widened and Castiel felt his face heat up in shame at what she must be seeing now. There was sadness and pity and anger in her face, but soon she was let through and with a mighty step and a flap of her wings Castiel had Rachel wrapping her arms around him.

He choked back on a sob when he felt the gentle vibration of her Grace seep into him, perceived the familiar scent of her skin, her hair, her wings. It was almost too much for him and even though he was taller than her now he felt like a small, helpless child in her arms.

“I missed you so much,” he told her and Rachel put some distance between them so she could wipe Castiel’s hair out of his face.

“And I you,” she said. Then Hester stepped towards them, her pace slower and Castiel could see the rage within her. She was a soldier and she bore the marks of a lost battle, but she still was fierce and full of fury. Castiel couldn’t say anything before Hester took in his appearance with a disgusted expression. He knew not to be hurt by it, because it was not he that disgusted her. After a while her stern exterior cracked and she breathed in sharply.

“Poor Mother. How they have wronged you,” she lamented and then she pulled him in for a crushing hug. Hearing that word and affirmation of the change of his status made Castiel feel odd. He was no Mother yet, but he knew that to the angels he was either dead and damned or the wife of Dean Winchester. The Mother that would give him many healthy children.

“I’m so glad that you could come. Let me guide you somewhere where we don’t draw as much attention,” Castiel offered, looking around and seeing the guards with their weapons at the ready and people in the streets looking at them distrustfully. Both Hester and Rachel just spread their wings, making them look bigger and more imposing.

“We’re protecting you, Mother. Don’t mind those lower creatures,” Rachel said as Hester reached out to pet Castiel’s drawn in wings.

“Look at them. They’re in such a poor state. Don’t hide yourself away. You’re worth more than all of this settlement. Each feather of yours is a treasure in itself!”

Castiel decided to cut this discussion short and started walking away, leading them towards their lodging.

“Don’t pester her. You know Mothers don’t carry their wings the same as we do,” Rachel whispered, of course loudly enough for Castiel to hear it well.

“Well, she obviously does not have a husband that is as powerful a shield as her wings are. There’s no grace, no glory within her.”

“Could you stop that?” Castiel asked with a groan and his sisters fell silent. The guard of the lodge was just as mistrustful of the small group of angels as everyone else they had seen, not that Hester or Rachel cared.

“My queen. The rooms are ready. Would you like to take your tea now?” The owner of the inn asked and he sounded a bit timid, especially when Hester glared at him.

“Thank you. Yes,” Castiel answered with a smile and followed the directions upstairs to a spacious apartment. Castiel found it very pretty, but Hester and Rachel were less appreciative.

“It stinks of foul and twisted magic in here,” Rachel said and once she spotted a few sigils of – as Castiel knew now – demonic origin she pressed her palm to the wood and burned it away. The protective layer around the room quivered, split apart and tried to rearrange itself.

“These sigils must be an offense to your eyes, seeing as you were trained in this,” Hester said with a snort. “The things that humans touch become tainted. Lesser. Just filth where once before it was good and glorious.”

The poor inn owner, who had chosen that moment to serve their tea, was making a sour face, but still smiled when Castiel thanked him, with an apology in his eyes. But when he had tea, he thought about Hester’s words again. He sighed deeply, sadly.

“Me too?” he asked and both his sisters looked at him quizzically. He set the tea cup down and lifted the circlet off his head. “What am I to you now?”

“Oh, Mother. We didn’t mean it like that,” Rachel was quick to assure him, but Hester was clenching her fists.

“I did,” she said and Rachel hissed at her. Hester looked down at Castiel, agony in her expression. “Oh, Castiel. I did! They snatched you away! They touched you with their unblessed hands! They dressed you in their rough garments! They put a foreign crown on your head! You don’t fly. You don’t fight. You have been diminished and lost! And why? Because a human lay his hands on you!” Castiel felt the heat of shame rise in his cheeks.

“Hester…! You can’t talk to Castiel like that!” Rachel said, putting herself between Hester and him. “It’s not her fault!” Before Hester could say anything Castiel stood up, allowing his wings to spread out to their entire length. From tip to tip they touched both far walls of the room.

“No, it wasn’t my fault! Michael didn’t have to sacrifice me! He didn’t have to throw me at Dean’s feet, careless of what would happen to me! You can’t expect me to have fought any more than I did! I risked death to escape! But where to? Back to a city that considers me filth now? To a city that made no move to try to preserve me?!” Castiel shouted, causing the room to quiver and a window to crack, but he was too agitated to keep his voice down. It was not their doing, he shouldn’t be angry at them, it wasn’t their fault. But how dare they judge him! How dare anybody judge him!

When he looked at his sisters he found them with matching expressions of surprise. Castiel sighed, letting his wings slump and sat back down into the chair.

“It is done… Please, I need to talk. Not argue,” Castiel said, tired now.

“Of course, Mother,” Rachel agreed, pulling at Hester’s sleeve to get her to sit down as well. Hester’s eyes were still stormy and she looked like she was close to arguing with him again.

“You don’t need to call me Mother…,” Castiel told them, handing both a cup of tea. It was not as strong as it was at Dean’s castle but it would do.

“Not call you Mother? But that’s what you are now. It would be disrespectful not to award you this honor, even though you married below your station.”

“I didn’t marry below my station, Rachel,” Castiel admonished her. “Dean’s a king.”

“A _human_ king that thinks nothing of slaughtering our kind,” Hester said. “I would have driven my blade through him that one time he came to us, if not for you.”

“Besides, are you not expecting already? King Michael sent you wedding wine,” Rachel continued, shaking her head. “Potent wedding wine I have heard and not just for symbolic value!” Castiel wasn’t particularly ashamed to talk about this topic and he shook his head.

“That little devil is probably impotent,” Hester sneered and Castiel fought the urge to roll his eyes at how childish it seemed.

“He’s not as far as I know. But he didn’t bed me. He had understood my desperation since I attempted to risk death to flee. He spared me,” Castiel said and at least now the shock on his sisters’ faces brought him a tiny amount of satisfaction. Not that he should be pleased that he could prove that Dean was capable of being a decent person when hard pressed.

“So you’re… You’re not bound?” Hester dared to ask and there was hope in her eyes.

“Only by marriage,” Castiel replied and Hester clasped her hands together, pressing them to her forehead.

“Thank God for His mercy,” she muttered and Rachel took his hand, squeezing it with a watery smile. Castiel thought that God had very little to do with it.

“When you sent us a message that you wanted to talk and find a way to return home, I didn’t have the heart to tell you that it would be impossible. But now that you’re apparently unbound there might be a bit more hope,” Hester said and wiped her eyes.

“It will still be hard… And maybe it’s still impossible,” Rachel added carefully and Castiel sighed, nodding.

“I know… Michael has proclaimed me lost. I have no more place at home and if I just returned he might execute me for treason. I would break his will if I came home, I know that. Dean knows that… Which is why he stopped me when I tried to flee on my wedding night,” Castiel told them with a heavy heart. “But I thought, if maybe Dean let me go…” Rachel gave his hand another squeeze and Castiel felt his timid hope dwindle at once.

“I wish you could just leave… Maybe board a ship and sail to the old continent,” Rachel suggested but was met with a derisive snort from Hester.

“Of course. An angel in a land full of humans. Very wise, sister,” she mocked and Rachel frowned at her. Hester ignored her sister’s foul look and focused on Castiel. “I think your best chance is to remain unbound to Dean. You have an air of humanity about you and the more you stay away from our home and mingle with them, the more human you will become.”

“I can’t become human,” Castiel argued, “I’ll always be an angel.” Hester sighed at that. “Or won’t I…?” Unbidden, the ominous words of Pamela back at Barnes’ Grove came to his mind.

“Some part of you, yes… But you need to cultivate that part, Mother.”

“Castiel,” he corrected Hester promptly and while she looked at him sharply, she did nod.

“The capital of the Winchester kingdom is far away from Grace… And here on the fields the warped magic of humans doesn’t allow Grace to settle. It will be hard for you in either case, but it would be best if you stayed here,” she advised. Castiel thought about that and turned his head to look out of the window. It was a hazy day and he could only see the vague purple shapes of the mountains in the far distance. Once the night would fall he might be able to see the light shining through. To have it so close, but still out of reach made him feel unsettled and sad.

“Maybe,” he whispered.

* * *

 

Castiel had fallen asleep on the big bed between his sisters, curled up in their wings. He felt lost on the next morning, when he wiped the sleep out of his eyes and the wings pulled off him. He wanted to stop them and be wrapped up in their warmth some more, but Hester and Rachel had to leave soon.

Both were reluctant to part, wishing to be able to just take their sibling home with them, but they knew that there was nothing they could do.

“Good morning. I hope your stay has been to your liking,” Dean said when they all joined for breakfast. They had been reluctant to come meet Dean just like Dean was totally stiff around them when he let them into the house.

“Seeing Castiel again has brought us pleasure,” Rachel said and that was probably the most diplomatic thing to say in this situation. Dean made them sit in the big living room to a ready laid table.

“It is odd for a king to wait on us,” Hester commented drily and Dean ignored the slight, offering them tea and coffee and still warm buns out of the oven.

“Did you prepare this for us?” Castiel asked and when Dean nodded shyly Castiel smiled at him, “thank you, Dean.” The bread was quite good and was delightful with the tea and jam Dean had handed him.

“How is your father by the way?” Dean asked after he tried to break the tension by involving Castiel in idle chit chat about apples he had delivered from Braeden’s farm. Castiel flinched and darted a look to Rachel and Hester. He had not dared to ask yesterday, mostly because he knew that his father had long given up on him.

“He lives,” Rachel answered. “The loss of his wings has brought him great shame and he has moved into seclusion. He’s proud though and he still lives as opulently as he would at home.”

“I’m sorry about his wings. I haven’t ordered any of my soldiers to do that,” Dean told them and Hester shrugged at it. “Your wings are damaged too. Some of the feathers are clipped.”

“Yes, they are,” she growled, her face clouding over at once.

“The cutting of wings is a punishment, King of Winchester… While I don’t know if our father had been hurt by yours or our own, Hester’s wings were clipped because of the lost war effort,” Rachel explained and Dean actually looked appalled at that. He was putting his scone down on the plate and grabbed the edge of the table in a white knuckled grip.

“What?!”

“They will grow back. I will carry my shame until then,” Hester told him with an air of cool pride.

“Hester is a captain of one of the guarding garrisons. They had been stationed in the northern regions and arrived at the end of the war. There was no way that they could have helped to turn the tide,” Castiel told Dean, daring to gently tug at one of Hester’s undamaged feathers to calm her.

“Then why punish her?” Dean asked in confusion, shaking his head.

“You do not need to understand how we work and don’t pretend that you actually care to learn,” Hester hissed at him. Dean didn’t contradict her for the sake of not starting an argument. “But I have my pride as a soldier. Tell me, human,” she started and with the butter knife she stabbed her bread.

“Oh, Hester. Don’t be a child,” Rachel admonished but Hester ignored her.

“How have you managed to breech our shields? How could you banish us? Kill us? To what devil have you sold your soul to get this kind of magic?” she demanded to know and Dean blinked at her in surprise.

“I haven’t sold my soul to anyone,” he said with a snort but Hester just puffed up her wings threateningly. “I had records from demons. Probably things they figured out the last time you slaughtered each other.” Castiel wasn’t very fond of the hostile tone creeping into Dean’s voice and the tenseness of his posture.

“The war against demons and Lucifer’s fall was centuries ago! We’ve learnt to ward against those things,” Rachel argued but Dean shrugged.

“Apparently not well enough,” he spat and silence fell on the table. Castiel looked from Rachel, to Hester and then to Dean. The hostility was thick in the air and Castiel was tired of it. But before he could figure out a way to defuse the situation, Dean sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead.

“I’m sorry… I just wish this war hadn’t happened, so we wouldn’t have a need to want to strangle each other instead of eating breakfast like civilized people,” he said. Hester opened her mouth to argue, but Rachel covered it with her palm before she could say anything.

“I don’t think that you expect us to forgive you. It might take a life time of you apologizing with all that you’re worth before we even consider accepting your apology,” Rachel told him and Castiel was surprised that her voice was actually quite gentle. “But I can see that you are honest about wanting to apologize and you haven’t wronged Castiel like you could have wronged him. So we’ve got you to thank for that he hasn’t been entirely doomed.”

“I… Uhm… You’re welcome. And thank you,” Dean mumbled, unsure how to react. He looked at Castiel and made a little helpless grimace. Castiel pulled his mouth into a small smile and Dean’s shoulders relaxed at once.

“I think we might have to leave now. I need to return to my post,” Hester said when the bell of the marketplace clock rang. Dean rose out of his chair, Castiel following suit after his sisters did.

“Will you allow me to accompany you for a few steps?” Castiel asked them after Dean had wished them a safe return journey. The two agreed at once and they were on their way.

“I wish we could have stayed longer,” Rachel said, “but your administration was very adamant about giving us only about 12 hours. Such cowards.” They passed the gates and Castiel followed his sisters into the fields. The road here was rough, an old cobblestone path that soon ended. Seemingly endless flower fields were stretching out before them. Castiel closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. When someone tugged at his wing, he yelped. He saw Hester quirk an eyebrow at him, slowly spreading her wings. Castiel hesitated, but then he spread them too, relishing the feeling of the wind flowing through his feathers. They absorbed the Grace lingering in the air, making them feel stronger and healthier at once.

“Your husband is a strange sort,” Rachel spoke up and Castiel opened his eyes to look at her. She was bending down, plucking flowers from the field while Hester walked on.

“Why do you say that?” Castiel wondered, accepting the flower bouquet Rachel handed him after a while. Rachel tugged her own hair behind her ears, studying Castiel.

“When I first saw him, he was nothing but a ruthless barbarian in my eyes. I thought that he would treat you like a whore, use you and then discard you.” Castiel lowered his eyes, but Rachel cupped his cheek and made him look up again. “Don’t avert your eyes in shame. You’re not to blame,” he told him and Castiel gave a hesitant nod. “When he came to ask us to the wedding, apparently concerned that you would feel comfortable I felt like he was mocking us and you. But now? I have a hard time placing him. I know he did wrong, but he cherishes you. I can see that. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, sweet Castiel.” Castiel looked at her and sighed deeply.

“I don’t know what to do, Rachel… Tell me what to do,” he begged, pressing the flowers close to his chest. Rachel shook her head and he wanted to plead with her but she put her hand on his forehead.

“Whether you see the good in him and can forgive him is your decision… Don’t become a Mother just because Michael wants you to.”

“Do you know what Michael wants me to do? Are you aware of his plans?” Castiel asked, not sure if he should be surprised or relieved that someone else was aware of the additional burden placed on his shoulders. Rachel nodded.

“He told my father to reduce the disgrace. He told him that with some luck you’d bear Dean an heir that would overthrow him,” she said, shaking her head. “Father and Michael celebrated that night.” Castiel snorted in disgust.

“I am surprised that they would celebrate future discord, or even patricide,” he commented acidly. Rachel shrugged, but then she took Castiel hands. “I don’t want that, Rachel… I don’t want to be the one who causes more blood to be spilt. I don’t want a child of mine to grow up hating his father.”

“Well… I don’t know Dean and I certainly don’t know your heart. But do you really think that he could raise a child of his in a way to make it hate him?” Castiel looked at Rachel in surprise, finding her smile a bit encouragingly.

“Rachel! You’re dallying!” Hester called, making the other two look up. Hester was already a way off, her wings moving up and down impatiently. Rachel patted Castiel’s cheeks, but then she spread her wings and jumped into the air, soaring to where Hester was. Castiel watched them for a while, still wishing that he could see the city from here. Maybe actually seeing its walls and towers and huge trees would give him the courage to make a proper decision. After a while he turned around, seeing the small town of Kings Field before him. Dean was standing at the gate, waving at him. He made an odd, silly gesture with his outstretched arms, flapping them. Castiel frowned in confusion, but then he understood, slowly mimicking the gesture with his wings. Dean rose his arms over his head, clapping even though the sound didn’t carry to Castiel. He smiled and let his wings move down hard and with enough strength to pull him into the air. It was only strong enough to raise him about two meters, but the wind caught him, suspending him in the air for a short but wonderful moment. He landed again, his cheeks red with excitement.

Dean pressed a kiss on his cheek when Castiel came back.

“You looked wonderful,” he whispered in his ears and Castiel kept his wings a bit more open after that.

* * *

 

The change of scenery was becoming Castiel well. Dean watched him walk along the path that circled the city wall, just outside of Kings Field. He was picking flowers again with Jo and letting the wind ruffle his feathers. The two weeks they had been here had been a nice holiday for the both of them, but as a king never quite had a real holiday everything they did here was of importance. Castiel knew his way around the town now and had befriended Jody and while it was like trying to move mountains with some of Dean’s generals, Castiel was relatively well liked for an angel. Since Jody went to ask Castiel for advice on questions that the Kings Field council had to decide on – publicly as well – they had to understand that he was not just some minor, but pretty, irritation that would leave again.

Dean sighed, looking away from the window and turning back to the documents he was studying.

“Maybe you need to get a bit of fresh air too, brother.” Benny’s voice made Dean lift his head from where he had rested it in his palm and look at him. Benny was sitting next to him, like he had been for the last hour while Dean was slaving over the document he was writing. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” Dean said with a snort and Benny actually had the gall to reach out and pluck the fountain pen out of Dean’s fingers.

“You, my friend, are not fine,” his knight said gently and Dean heaved a sigh. He rubbed his palms over his face and leant back in his chair. “Just look at you. Do you even sleep?”

“I do,” Dean replied tersely, “enough.” Benny shook his head and put the cap on the fountain pen before setting it down.

“When you’re not lying awake thinking about your sweetheart or watching him sleep? Is that it?” Benny asked with a smirk, but when Dean’s shoulders slumped the cheerful expression disappeared. He reached out and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You sometimes overthink things. Just what is eating at you now? Maybe it’s not half as bad as you make it out to be.”

Dean frowned and when Benny took away his hand again he reached out to snag the fountain pen back, putting a few more lines to the letter, while crossing out words. “Dean…”

“I’ve come here to discuss our continued war effort against the demons,” Dean said, “that’s what everyone was expecting.”

“So you’re worried because you’re not building more fortresses up to the demons’ door steps? Our army doesn’t have endless resources. We all agreed that stretching our lines thin just opened us to attack. And as long as you’re still rebuilding and this settlement doesn’t start making more revenues you should guard your money. We voted, we agreed you were right,” Benny assured him, but lifted an eyebrow when Dean was shaking his head. “What’s it then?”

“Benny… I don’t know if I can fight this war,” he confessed silently, letting the pen drop. Benny lifted it off the parchment before the ink spilled too much.

“Why?” he asked and Dean covered his face with his palms again. “It’s okay. Just tell me.”

“Because I’m gonna fuck it up again. Look what I did to the angels,” Dean said, his voice muffled until he dropped his hands. His expression was angry and he made a vague gesture towards the window where the sulfurous lands lay way beyond the mountains. “I still hate the fuckers. God, I want to tear them all apart for what they did,” he hissed, but then he clenched his hand and bit his lips in anger. “But I can’t, Benny. I can’t do that again. I can’t drive an entire culture to the brink of extinction again. I can’t…” He shook his head helplessly. “I can’t live with more of that guilt.” Benny watched Dean clench his eyes shut, trying to regain his breathing.

“I know what you mean… Having Cas here with us put a whole new perspective on just what they are… People, not just beasts… I have been kept awake by guilt as well…”

“So you’re not… Angry that I might not fight after all?” Dean dared to ask and Benny lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Seriously, brother? Every war you don’t fight is a good one to me. I might be a knight, but I am happier protecting you and seeing you prosper than watching you drench yourself in blood,” Benny said with a small smile. Dean watched him until he was certain of the honesty in Benny’s words. Then he lowered his head and nodded. Benny sat back down and pulled the parchment towards himself.

“I’m not happy about the circumstances of how Castiel came into our lives, but I’m glad he’s here. He managed to fill your head with other things than blind revenge,” he said after a while and Dean made a wordless sound of agreement. “Are you really going to start talking to Michael about Cas? Do you really want to let him go?”

“Yeah,” Dean said tiredly, shaking his head. Jo’s laughter carried through the open window. They must be coming back into town then. He should get washed up and take them out for dinner. He made to get out of the chair, but Benny grabbed his wrist.

“Hold on, Dean,” he said and Dean remained seated. “What are you trying to do? You know that Michael won’t take it well if you tell him you want to give Castiel back. He’ll think your sweetheart has displeased you.”

“I know that,” Dean told him gravely, but then he put both of his hands on the armrests of his chair and pushed himself to his feet. “But Cas has to go home. I need him…” Dean’s voice broke off and he swallowed. “I need him to be happy, Benny…” Benny looked at him, his eyes soft and sad.

“Okay, Dean,” he agreed quietly and watched Dean rub his eyes. “Aww… Come here. I’ll give you a hug,” he said, trying to make his voice sound light and playful even as he opened his arms wide.

“I’m not crying! I’m just tired!” Dean argued, but when Benny wrapped his arms around him he didn’t protest. “I’m just tired,” he muttered.

* * *

 

Castiel watched Dean putter around on the day they were going back home. He had been nervous and tense ever since yesterday evening, where they had all eaten dinner at the inn, instead of preparing it at home. He looked out of the window, watching Dean return from the post office. All of Castiel’s luggage was already wrapped up and ready to be loaded into the carriage. He wasn’t sure why Dean was so nervous. As far as Castiel could tell the time here had been well spent on Dean’s part.

“Okay… Uh… I think I’m ready to leave,” Dean mumbled when Castiel went to open the door to him. Dean lingered in the door frame, hesitating before he came in, but when he did he wrapped his arms around Castiel. He was surprised and took a moment before he hugged Dean back.

“What’s the matter?” he asked in confusion and Dean let him go again. Dean smiled at him, but even though it was beautiful it was very clearly put on to make Castiel feel at ease.

“I’m just going to miss you,” he said and Castiel lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

“Miss me? Why would you miss me?” Castiel answered, his confusion becoming bigger when Dean looked actually wounded at that. “Dean. What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” Dean told him.

“Then why do I feel like I’m missing something,” Castiel challenged him, reaching out to grab Dean’s wrist. “Why would you miss me, Dean? Where are you going?”

“I’m going home.”

“Yes, I know. But I’m coming with you,” Castiel told him, frowning. Dean lowered his head and took hold of Castiel’s hands.

“You’re staying here, Cas.” Castiel widened his eyes in surprise. “I mean that’s what you want, isn’t it? I thought it was clear that this would be your home now.”

“Nothing is clear!” Castiel shouted, louder than he had intended, but the house was empty and nobody would hear them anyway. “You can’t just decide those things for me.” Dean flinched, letting go of Castiel’s hands.

“I didn’t mean to do that. I just… I thought that you’d want to stay here. Because it’s close to your home and you would be at ease here, without me. You could see your sisters, actively decide what would be happening to the lands I have conquered. I thought it… I thought that I didn’t even have to ask you if you wanted that.” Castiel watched Dean silently, studying the defensive way he held his body.

“What about the people back in Lawrence? What would they say to their queen being gone?” Castiel asked and Dean looked up at once, his answer apparently long prepared.

“I’d tell them that you would stay in the settlement for health related reasons. That your body needed Grace that didn’t reach as far as to our capital,” Dean explained and Castiel didn’t say anything. “And when you went back to your home we’d figure out something to tell them.”

“Anything but the truth?” Castiel challenged and Dean looked like he had been slapped, but he quickly recovered and shook his head.

“The truth eventually,” he told him. Castiel lowered his head, looking at the floor. “Okay… I’ll get my bags and leave.”

“No,” Castiel said and Dean stopped in his attempt to get past him. He looked at him in confusion. “I’m coming with you.” Dean breathed in sharply, then he bit his lips and narrowed his eyes.

“Cas… If you don’t want me to lie to them I won’t. But you could be happy here.”

“Maybe. But I’m coming with you,” he decided firmly and Dean stared at him.

“But… but why?” he asked, sounding helpless.

“Because Kings Field is not home! There are too many narrow minded idiots that I don’t want to deal with. If they need the queen’s opinion, they will have to write to the castle,” he decided and turned around. “I will get my luggage.” He left Dean standing in the hallway and went upstairs to retrieve his suitcase. He didn’t know why he was angry at himself now. This had been the perfect opportunity to start a severing process from Dean. But the only thing that made Kings Field agreeable was the company he had. If they all left then there would only be Jody and not even the pleasant woman would be able to constantly distract him from the magic, the barriers against him, the high walls and the almost mocking glow of his home at night.

“Honey,” Dean whispered from behind when Castiel tossed the suitcase and Dean’s bags on the path outside the door. He slipped his hands around Castiel’s waist, pulling him close to press a kiss to his neck. “I’m sorry. I thought this was best for you. I should have talked to you before, making sure that we were on the same page about it.” Castiel breathed in loudly through his nose, trying to calm down again. Why was he so angry? Damn Dean.

“You displaced me before and just when I was trying to grow some roots so as not to be completely lost you want to exile me here, caged by your demonic sigils and guarded by high walls and people with weapons that can kill me,” Castiel accused and Dean pressed another kiss to his neck. “This is not how you make it right!”

“I understand… I’m sorry, Cas. I won’t leave you here alone,” Dean promised and Castiel let himself be pulled against Dean’s chest. They just stayed there that way until Benny and Jo came back from their last patrol, ready to leave Kings Field behind.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

There was a beautiful welcome back ceremony hosted by Dean’s siblings and Ellen, who were all glad to see them return from the settlement in good health.

“You look a big haggard,” Ellen commented to Dean once she had made sure that her daughter was in perfect health. Castiel watched Dean frown at her. “Maybe you just need to get some proper food into you.” Dean was glad that she let it go and Dean wanted to turn his attention to the pie on his plate, but then Charlie grabbed his hands and dragged him to the dance floor. Castiel watched him stumble after her until he caught up with the rhythm.

“Thanks for bringing my girl back home, my queen,” Ellen said, sitting down in the chair next to Castiel. Castiel nodded, following Ellen’s eyes to where Jo was dancing with Sam. “I’m a bit surprised that you came back at all.”

“And why is that?” Castiel asked her and Ellen shrugged.

“Didn’t think you were all too happy here with Dean. We didn’t make it easy for you,” she said. Her voice was heavy, but not filled with guilt as Dean’s sometimes was. She sounded a bit tired. Everyone sounded so tired when talking to him.

“Yes… It wasn’t easy,” Castiel told her, directing his eyes back to Dean, still dancing with Jo. He was laughing, his movements easy. “He’s so young. He makes a lot of mistakes. But I think I got used to him.” Much to Castiel’s surprise Ellen, as well as Bobby, who had apparently listened in to the conversation, started laughing. “Why is this funny?”

“It’s just funny that his own husband would say that,” Bobby explained, “you’re a good one though. He’s been more himself lately.”

“Even though he’s been a bit morose. Did anything happen while you were in Kings Field? Were there difficult war councils?” the old man wanted to know. Castiel shook his head.

“I wasn’t present in those because of the mistrust of his generals...,” he said, then he looked to Dean. It was true that he had lost some weight and that there were shadows under his eyes that were barely chased away by his laughter now. “I think he assumed that I would remain in Kings Field. Like you did, Ellen.”

“I feel that just some months ago, you might have remained there,” the inn keeper said and put her hand on Castiel’s arm. “And we have no right to ask you to give Dean a chance. But somehow you did. Somehow you have managed to grow and decide. And I think that’s admirable,” she said. Castiel looked at her, surprised to find warmth and kindness in her face now where before there had been cool detachment. He was not able to form a response though, because Sam was at his seat and asking him for a dance.

“I’d… I think I’d love to dance,” Castiel told the prince and was pulled out of the chair. He still sent a look over his shoulder to find Bobby and Ellen sharing a knowing smile. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. But soon Sam had him stumbling along the human dance and it took most of his attention not to stumble over his own or someone else’s feet. Other pairs danced around them and soon he found himself holding hands with Jo before he was returned to Sam.

“You dance well!” he said and Castiel assumed it was meant to flatter him because he had almost knocked someone (he thought it was one of Dean’s knights) off their feet with his wings.

“I’m not so sure,” he said, but Sam just laughed and held on to his waist to lift him into the air before Castiel again was meant to dance a few steps with a woman. He could see Dean grinning at him from the other side of the hall, looking far more elegant dancing than Castiel assumed he did. The dance continued and Castiel lost sight of Dean again, especially when his partner was changed from Sam to Benny. He was starting to get tired by the time the music wound down and came face to face with Dean.

“Do you want to…?” he asked timidly and Castiel gave him his hand.

“A last dance!” Sam called to the band and Dean winced when they started playing a Waltz instead of the funny folk dance songs of before.

“I do know how to dance that,” Castiel assured him and Dean gave him a small hopeful smile.

“Thank God, because I suck at it,” Dean confessed, “too boring. How about you guide me through the dance?” Castiel was surprised at first but then he smiled at him and nodded. Dean was smiling at him the whole time the dance lasted.

“I’m glad that you’re still here.”

“Maybe I am too,” Castiel told him, squeezing Dean’s hand to signal that Dean had to spin him now. “We’ll see.”

“Are you still playing for the sake of the public?” Dean asked, his voice quieter now and his smile seemed less genuine.

“As far as I know,” Castiel told him, “I’m dancing.” Dean looked at him, almost stumbling over his own feet, but then he laughed.

“Okay,” he said and when the music died down and they came to a halt he still kept looking at Castiel. “We can do dancing,” he said, reaching up to cup the side of Castiel’s face. He rubbed his thumb over Castiel’s cheek, but then he realized that he was standing in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by clapping people and stepped away to clap as well, thanking the band for their efforts.

“Dean?” When they were making their way back to the tables to enjoy some more of the dessert they were stopped by a woman Castiel hadn’t seen before. She was very attractive, with sun kissed skin, dark hair and deep brown eyes in a very beautiful face.

“Oh! Hey! Cas? This is Lisa. Lisa Braeden. We attended university together,” Dean said and Castiel reached out to shake her hand. Lisa bowed respectfully before she took Castiel’s hand.

“My apologies, my queen, that I was not able to attend your wedding ceremony. I was overseas for my studies and just recently returned,” she said regretfully, still a full smile on her lips.

“No need to apologize. You and Dean are friends?” Castiel asked and Lisa and Dean grinned at each other. He considered that answer enough. “Are you the daughter of Sir Braeden? He who supplies the castle with most of the fruit and preserve?”

“Oh, you know your noblemen already, my queen,” Lisa said with a pleasantly surprised expression. “Yes, that is me. Though I have never held much interest in farming.”

“Then what does interest you?” Castiel asked curiously.

“Getting people to be healthy,” she said with a grin and when Castiel looked at her in confusion she laughed, lightly slapping his arm. He was instantly warmed by the casual familiarity and warmth in her actions. “I’m not a doctor, but I study how I can improve people’s health by what they eat and how they move for example.” She looked Castiel over. “I could come up with a couple of exercises to keep your wings healthy because judged by the way you hold them and how tense the muscles look you tend not to move them much.”

“I can’t fly, they’re too weak without Grace.”

“Grace is not all that sustains wings, as far as I know,” Lisa advised him, “they’re also made of bones and muscles and those can be strengthened.” Casiel was slightly surprised but he thanked her and accepted any suggestions she would give him. “I’ve got to head home now, it’s a bit of a journey back by horse and I can’t stay overnight.”

“I hope you will visit again,” Castiel said, shaking her hand while Dean hugged her.

“I sure will. And Dean, don’t let your mind and tools get rusty. I saw that your atelier was closed up.”

“I’m a king now. I’ve got other things to do,” Dean called after her, sounding quite defensive. Castiel looked up at him in confusion, but Dean shrugged the unvoiced question off. “I used to build things. It’s always been a hobby. But I don’t have time for it now that I’m king.”

“I see,” Castiel said, unsure what to do with this seemingly random piece of information. That Dean didn’t feel as lightly about it as his tone of voice and flippant way of speaking made it seem was clear in the far-away look in his eyes. He shook his head.

“I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll let them party on and head to bed,” he said and Castiel nodded. He waited by the table, loading a small tray with tea and desserts in case Dean still wanted something. Dean said his good-byes and rejoined him without the party stopping for the kings’ departure.

“I’ll walk with you,” Castiel told him, which Dean gratefully accepted, though he insisted on carrying the tray.

“Do you want to talk about your hobby?” Castiel asked, as the noises of the festivities died down the further along they walked. He saw Dean shrug his shoulders as best as possibly with the things he was carrying. “I always assumed that you fought as a hobby.” Dean laughed mirthlessly at that. “I remember that you came to my chambers fresh from battles, smiling, radiant even. I thought you enjoyed it.”

“I don’t enjoy battles. I enjoy training with Benny and Victor. Fights in which I don’t have to spill blood. No… I’m sorry I gave you the impression that I was a battle crazed barbarian.”

“You were a bit of a battle crazed barbarian when I met you,” Castiel commented. Dean must have seen the small smile on his lips, otherwise he could have easily been thrown back into guilt. Now he just snorted.

“That’s true. It’s odd how loss, wars and victories can get to someone’s head,” Dean told him pensively. “I did study to become an engineer. Building machineries, things to improve people’s lives, was my passion. I was not made to be a king and didn’t think I had to be one for many years to come. Long enough at least to let Sam grow into the role. I was happy in my workshop.”

“You’re no longer happy there now?”

“Once you started building machines for war things lose their innocent charm. It’s like how you see the magic. It gets wrong if you twist it into something it wasn’t meant to be,” Dean explained, his voice carrying a note of bitterness and sadness. They arrived at Dean’s door and Castiel opened it for him. It was in meticulous order, as always, smelling fresh and inviting. Castiel could see the stars through his big windows.

“Should we eat that?” Dean’s voice called him back and he turned away from the window to see Dean setting the table for their dessert. “It would be a waste to not eat it. Ellen’s pie is great.”

“Then we shall eat,” Castiel agreed. He took the seat next to Dean, watching him eat in delight. He could still see that tiredness that both Bobby and Ellen had spotted on him. There was a weight pressing down on Dean but it had become familiar for Castiel to see him with it. It was sad, but the unforgiving part in Castiel knew that it was well deserved. If Dean felt no guilt for what he had done, then there was no way he would learn. Forgiving him was a thing that would have to come with time and Dean forgiving himself was something that he had to do on his own. Castiel looked around the room. He had been in here enough times for it to be familiar now. He still recalled their wedding night, but when his eyes came to rest on the bed he was not filled with dread. Sharing a bed with Dean for the last two weeks hadn’t been a terrible experience.

“Do you need to catch up on sleep?” Castiel asked when Dean started yawning. Dean snapped his mouth shut, his expression slightly embarrassed. “Didn’t you sleep well when we were at Kings Field?”

“I was at times lying awake,” he confessed and Castiel put down his tea cup. Maybe he felt a bit disappointed to hear that his presence had caused Dean discomfort.

“I see. I was going to suggest that I came to join you, but I see that you might sleep better on your own.” Dean reacted to that immediately, raising his head and looking fully awake.

“You want to come sleep with me?”

“Merely sharing a bed,” Castiel specified and Dean nodded at once. “While I enjoy and am used to being on my own, I found our close proximity to be…” he frowned trying to come up with a proper word for what it had made him feel. “Maybe not comforting, but certainly agreeable. I have a sense of duty towards you as my husband, a husband which is a king I must add. There is a particular way I expect you to present yourself in public and that’s why I felt sharing a bed was helping you understand how to act around me.”

“Sometimes it sounds like you try to learn how humans act by guessing alone,” Dean joked.

“That’s what I’m doing. Observing and guessing,” Castiel told him. “Is sleeping next to you not appropriate?”

“Unconventional, given our situation,” Dean told him with a small, one-sided smile. He shrugged.

“Should I get my night gown then?” Castiel asked and Dean laughed, reaching out to ruffle Castiel’s hair affectionately.

Castiel did get his nightgown, quickly undressing in his own chambers before joining Dean again. He was already in bed, reading something. The bed here was even bigger than the one in the manor, but when he slipped in he rested himself against Dean, cushioning his head on his shoulder.

“You really want to sleep like this?” Dean asked, his voice timid again.

“I’m not sure. My wings feel a bit cramped,” he said and Dean burst out laughing.

“Then roll over and get comfortable,” Dean told him, which Castiel did. “Good night, love.” The room was cast into the shadow when Dean switched off the light and Castiel watched the night sky through the window.

“Good night, Dean.”

* * *

 

Castiel was by now used to feel the sleep warm, relaxed body of his husband lying next to him. Waking up in his room was still rather disconcerting at first though. He sat up slowly and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His slippers were there, cool to the touch. He rubbed his eyes and slipped out of bed. The faint light from Dean’s windows gave the room a soft glow. It was still morning, but Castiel could hear that the castle was already awake. He had kind of missed the faraway noise that was connected to the busy castle and the city below. It had been so silent in Kings Field or Barnes Grove. He went into Dean’s bathroom, recalling taking a bath on the morning after their wedding night. There were still lots of vials placed next to the bath and Castiel decided to take a quick bath. His own chambers also had a very nice bathroom, but the tub was a beautiful porcelain construct that was just big enough to house him. Dean’s bath tub was big and for his wings that was more relaxing. He sat on the bench and groomed his wings while he waited for the tub to fil. There was no noise coming from the room beyond the door so he assumed Dean was still asleep. Castiel turned off the faucets and climbed into the bath. There were lots of bubbles from the concoction he had poured into the water. It must be something that Dean didn’t use often because the soft, flowery scent was not something he connected to his husband. He felt himself relaxing in the water, thinking about what tasks he had to tackle today. There must have been work accumulating in his absence. He knew that it wasn’t like the castle couldn’t run on its own without him present, but he still believed that his housekeeping work had been well appreciated by the servants. It was not something that Sam or Charlie were fond of. Dean kept his mind busy with politics and warfare and the Winchester siblings were generally happy as long as there was food, fresh laundry and clean rooms.

When Castiel felt refreshed, he stepped out of the bath, drained the water and dried himself before stepping back into his sleeping clothes. If he shared the bed with Dean again he would have to either take his clothes for the next day into the room or wash in his own chambers. When he stepped out of the agreeably warm bathroom he found Dean sprawled on the bed, on his stomach and hugging the pillow Castiel had slept on. He looked quite endearing and he was sure that the king actually needed his sleep, so he didn’t wake him. He quietly stepped out of the room with the intention to get dressed and head to breakfast.

Sam wasn’t up yet, but Charlie was hanging out in their dining room, nose buried in a book. When Castiel greeted her he was met with a small frown that then slowly turned into a smirk. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was hostile or amused.

“So, I saw you were in Dean’s bedroom this night?” she started by way of greeting and Castiel put the teacup back on the saucer, turning away from the tea jars to study the princess.

“I was, but how do you know?” Castiel told her and Charlie looked taken aback. Had she expected him to deny it?

“I wanted to grab something from Dean’s room. You know, he’s my brother, so I do that. Without knocking I mean. It’s no big deal. I have walked on him jerking off before so nothing can disturb me now. Also, dicks are really not my thing and-“

“Charlie,” Castiel interrupted and she laughed uneasily, stopping her babbling.

“He had borrowed a book that I wanted to read so I went to retrieve it, thinking he had gone to bed already. And you were there. Sleeping in the same bed,” she said, then she blew her hair out of her face and slumped in her chair as if she had just accomplished something very daunting. “And I don’t get it. I think you wouldn’t touch my brother with a ten foot pole and there you were, snuggling! In his bed!” Something about the situation felt comic to Castiel that, even though it was quite absurd, he couldn’t help laughing. “I’m having a crisis here, don’t laugh at me, you fluffy feather fiend.” Castiel continued laughing, softly and turned back around to continue preparing his tea. He carried it to the table and sat down. Charlie was looking at him with a mixture of sadness and hopefulness. It made her look so much like her brother.

“We have taken to sharing a bed. I believe we are…,” Castiel started but now was unsure how to continue. He narrowed his eyes, trying to settle on a definition that might be apt. “Friends,” he finally said. “Yes, I assume we are friends.” Charlie’s forlorn look was suddenly replaced by joy. “But more than that, we are two people who share a duty.”

“Because you’re a king and queen, is that it?” Charlie asked, stirring her coffee, “when you came here and I told you that you could be a queen… You didn’t seem particularly fond of the idea… But you’ve actually gone beyond what I imagined you to do.”

“I wasn’t fond of the idea because I did not want to become part of your kingdom. I wanted to leave. But I had nowhere to go. I could at least try to make my stay here more bearable,” Castiel explained and Charlie sighed.

“You’re still missing home?”

“I miss it… Going home and being what I was before… I want that… But I don’t know if I can go back. My family is mostly gone…”

“Yeah, I understand that,” Charlie mumbled into her coffee, her mouth pulled into a tight line before she took a sip. “Things will always be different.”

“Morning.” Both looked up when they heard the yawn, seeing Sam, with his hair all over the place, stumbling into the dining room.

“Did you get laid or what? You look horrible but blissed out at the same time,” Charlie commented and Sam paused in his tracks to stare at his sister.

“What?” he asked, shaking his head minutely. “No. No, I was studying until about 3 in the morning. Other than you I don’t have a private tutor who goes easy on me.”

“You’re going back to university in September, won’t you?” Castiel asked, watching Sam pour himself coffee and prepare a piece of bread with butter. He nodded, still yawning.

“Yeah…”

“Oh, I can’t wait to go too! I don’t understand why Dean just won’t let me enroll! I’m 20 already! I’m ready for the university life!!” Charlie complained.

“Because the campus is a day’s ride from here and Dean has separation anxieties,” Sam told her, making Charlie pout. The siblings chatted for a while longer, nothing that was particularly new to Castiel.

“I’ll see what’s taking your brother,” Castiel said when he was done with breakfast and it was past 10 without Dean showing up.

“Hey, Sam! Did you know that Dean and Cas are friends now? Bed buddies even!” Charlie chirped and Sam’s head snapped up, blinking at Castiel in surprise. “Just cuddles, no naughty touching.”

“Oh,” Sam said with a blank look, but then he shook himself out of it and smiled. “That’s great. I’m happy to hear that you and Dean are becoming friends. You’re part of the family for us, Cas, so seeing you more comfortable means a lot to us.” Castiel didn’t know how to react to that, a bit surprised. So he nodded mutely and left the two of them.

When he pushed the door open, Dean was still in bed, propped up on a heap of cushions. He was writing, but looked up when Castiel came in.

“Are you unwell?” Castiel asked, concerned now. Usually Dean was up and running around with the first rays of the sun.

“Nah. I’m just worn out,” Dean assured him, “so I thought I’d lie around a bit longer and get some paper work done.” Castiel frowned, then he sat down on the edge of Dean’s bed to peer at him. He was still a bit pale so Castiel reached out his hand to feel his forehead.

“You seem feverish,” Castiel told him and Dean rolled his eyes, pulling away his head so that Castiel was no longer touching him.

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t be difficult,” Castiel said and pressed his hand pack to Dean’s forehead, forcing him back into the cushions. His husband yelped indignantly, but Castiel narrowed his eyes in concentration and sent a small flicker of his Grace to Dean. When he took his hand away again Dean blinked up at him in surprise. Some color had already returned to his face and his cheek was cool when Castiel touched the back of his hand to it.

“What did you do?”

“Heal you. Of a cold I assume. You’re lucky that I had enough Grace in me to do that.”

“You can do that? I didn’t know,” Dean asked, sitting up straight now. “Shit, I actually do feel better.”

“Only for humans and only small healings. I’m not a medic. If we were bound together, I would be more powerful, despite the distance to my home, because my Grace would strive to keep your health up,” Castiel explained and sighed. Even though it had only been a small act, it had drained some of his strength, but nothing that a short rest wouldn’t be able to replenish. “What were you doing anyway?” Dean was apparently still thinking about the healing, so he looked confused for a moment before looking up at Castiel, then at the writing.

“Oh, this.” He seemed slightly embarrassed, turning his pen around in his fingers. “I was thinking about picking up a correspondence with Michael.” Castiel raised his eyebrow in surprise. “About you. I…” he lowered his head. “I wouldn’t have sent it off without consulting you first, but I am afraid that I could get your hopes up only to have Michael dash them again.”

“What were you intending to write anyway?” Castiel asked, pulling the paper out of Dean’s hand when he held it out to him.

“I was trying to find a diplomatic way to touch the subject of him letting you come back… I know it’s difficult, because you were practically a gift, a strategic one, sure but still… I just want him to consider letting you go home. Without… I don’t know… Without making it seem that I was displeased with you.”

Castiel scanned the draft of the letter.

“You want him to invite me to his court?” Castiel concluded, looking at Dean in surprise.

“Well…,” he started, “you are the queen. I have reasons enough to visit the city and see how my rebuilding attempts are progressing. I’ll try to butter him up a bit. There’s no reason why he should deny the Queen of Winchester a visit to the city we have practically conquered. You’re his equal now. He has to thread carefully.” Castiel was quite in awe at this plan, even though it was simple. Facing Michael just like this, as a queen, was something Castiel couldn’t even properly consider. It was King Michael after all.

“Well… It’s worth a try,” Castiel agreed after a while, familiarizing himself with the idea. “Thank you, Dean. I appreciate your efforts.” Dean smiled at him.

“I promise I’ll try my best.”

* * *

 

Resuming his position in the busy Winchester household proved to be surprisingly easy for Castiel. Dean made sure that Castiel was included in all the important decisions pertaining to the royal family and the work connected to the angels. Since Jo was currently training for the entrance exam to the guard Castiel’s trips to Ellen’s inn were less frequent despite the woman’s attitude towards him being less hostile now. He sometimes watched Jo train, joined by Charlie when she wasn’t getting tutored.

“How about you join in! Come on!” Jo challenged one morning, her entire front covered in mud from the wet training ground, her wide grin a white spot in her dripping, dirty face. Benny laughed and kicked her feet out from under her.

“Don’t let down your guard,” he admonished when Jo looked up at him grumpily.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m not good with weapons,” Castiel told them both from his safe, covered space.

“Afraid of a little dirt, Queen Winchester?” Jo teased and Castiel looked at her with an unimpressed expression. “You’re an angel, aren’t you? You’re on top of the big bad monster food chain! Show some claws!”

“We don’t have claws,” he told her with a sigh but Jo had apparently made it her job to get Castiel out into the surprisingly chilly and wet morning.

“Don’t listen to the imp,” Benny said when Castiel sighed and stepped out from under the covered cloister that surrounded one of the smallest training fields. His leather shoes sank into the mud immediately and he fanned out his wings to stop himself from slipping.

“Shut up, let’s see if those angel blades are just for show,” Jo said, grinning from ear to ear and lifting the wooden training sword. She tossed one to Castiel, who caught it clumsily, but managed not to drop it. The drizzle was making his hair curl and by the time he had joined Jo the bottom of his trousers were already splashed with mud.

“You know Cas could throw you into the dungeons for being so disrespectful,” Benny admonished when Jo kicked out, getting mud all over Castiel’s front.

“We have a dungeon?” Castiel asked with some surprise and Jo groaned.

“Let’s see what you can do!” she challenged, then assumed a fighting stance that Castiel didn’t know how to mimic. Even though he was born into a family that had raised four soldiers he had never been confronted with battle training. It just had not been necessary. Jo started with some easy swings of her wooden sword that Castiel tried to evade as best as he could. Lucky for him it was wrapped in softer materials so that it didn’t hurt too much when Jo managed to hit him.

“And you’re dead!”

“Even if you had used a real blade, a stab to my waist would not have killed me,” Castiel told her dryly to which Jo retorted with another blow this time to his chest.

“And dead again!” Castiel rolled his eyes and tried to parry her attacks, this time with slightly more efficiency, but still too clumsy. After Jo had thrown him into the mud and his wings were soaked through he was starting to get annoyed.

“This sword is far too long. Angel blades are shorter,” he groused, trying to ignore the spectators they had drawn. It was still early enough that not many people were about, but Castiel was sure that even a dozen people seeing him covered head to wingtip with mud wasn’t really becoming or helping his reputation.

“You’re making up excuses now. You just suck, Cas,” Jo teased, happy now after she was finally able to defeat someone after hours of training with the far more experienced Benny. Castiel snorted, but then he took the sword in both hands and broke it apart.

“Holy shit!” Jo yelped, making Castiel look up with worry.

“Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to destroy it. I just…,” he said sheepishly, holding up the now much shorter weapon in his hand.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. She’s just surprised that you’re strong enough to actually break it apart like it was nothing but a twig. They’re quite sturdy, hard wood,” Benny explained and Castiel looked at the broken off weapon.

“Maybe let me take over here,” he continued, shoving Jo aside and rolling his shoulders. Someone from the sidelines (Castiel thought it was Victor) tossed him a shorter training sword, then he held it up to Castiel. “Can’t have you actually hit Jo if you’re that strong.” Jo made an indignant sound at that, but Castiel had no time to be worried because Benny was advancing on him. With this far shorter sword he was able to block the Knight’s attacks far more frequently. His movements were probably ungraceful and uncoordinated as opposed to Benny’s, but when Benny disarmed him, he didn’t feel like he had utterly failed.

“Look at him. He didn’t even break a sweat!” Jo sounded annoyed and Castiel wiped the mud out of his eyes before looking at her. The girl was sitting in the mud, not a care for the dirt or the rain.

“Maybe you should come here from time to time. I’m sure that with a bit of training you’d be quite good,” Benny said, collecting the broken sword.

“I’m not going to fight,” Castiel told him. “I’m not a soldier.”

“Maybe. But you don’t only have weapons to kill,” Benny told him, smiling when he clapped his shoulder. “Maybe you’ve got your angel blade to guard things.” Castiel didn’t know what to reply to this, merely watching Benny make Jo stand up for more training before lunch. She groaned at him but from the way she grinned Castiel assumed that there was nothing that she’d rather do now.

Having been dismissed, Castiel turned around and stepped back into the cloister. The people who had watched were actually grinning at him, some awe on their faces where Castiel had expected disgust, disdain or even fear at the power he apparently held.

“Nobody can get a hit on Benny on the first try,” he was told by some of the cadets of the academy. “You’ll get there!” The casual camaraderie was quite surprising and Castiel found himself ushered towards the castle. He didn’t dare to look at himself in the reflection of the windows, knowing quite well what a spectacle he made.

Dean burst out laughing when Castiel crossed paths with him. He had taken what he had hoped to be the most deserted corridors towards the nearest bathroom in the castle, but for some reason Dean had stepped out of one of the rooms. Castiel assumed that he had heard about Castiel’s training. Gossip was quite an artform in this kingdom, he thought morosely.

“Do you need help with getting your wings cleaned? We’ve got a shower in one of the rooms. You know, with running water coming from above. You could rinse your wings.” Like this Castiel found himself in tiled room with water running down his wings. Dean was in the room with him, but there was a door that hid the smaller shower room from the rest of the bathroom, so he didn’t feel particularly self-conscious.

“Why were you training anyway?” He heard Dean’s voice over the loud sound of the running water. He wiped his hair out of his face and started rinsing his wings.

“Jo teased me,” Castiel replied loudly, to be heard over the water.

“Yeah, I heard you sucked.” Castiel rolled his eyes. He turned off the shower and stepped out of the room, just a towel held before him. Dean visibly gave a start to find Castiel standing before him in the steamed room

“So what?” he challenged. “Take one of your iron weapons and drive it through my heart. I don’t care. If you get close enough for me to touch you I can snap your neck or burn the soul out of you.” He knew he was being a bit nasty but Dean’s expression was amusing enough to see. “Besides,” he said with a flat tone of voice and started rubbing the towel over his hair. “In this post-war time I do not need to fight.”

“Maybe it’s an interwar period,” Dean added quietly, meeting his eyes when Castiel looked at him. “You weren’t our objective.”

“I’m pretty sure that I have your word that you will not wage war,” Castiel returned, frowning now. He folded his towel and put it on top of the sink before getting dressed.

“Just… Just why are you talking to me naked?” Dean wanted to know and he didn’t even try to sound casual about it. His face was pink even though Castiel was wearing a new set of clean clothes now.

“I’m not naked now.”

“I know that, Cas,” Dean groaned. “Do you like me enough to feel comfortable around me, that’s what I’m asking. Comfortable enough to be naked I mean! Don’t you fear that I’m going to touch you?”

“No. I am stronger than I was when I had to be afraid of you,” Castiel replied honestly and Dean seemed taken aback, but after a while he started smiling. “And you seem less barbaric now,” he added.

“I’m not barbaric,” Dean huffed, following Castiel out of the bathroom after he got few wet feathers slapped into his face.


	10. Chapter 10

 

The days of summer continued and before the month passed Dean had managed to strike up a slow and – on Michael’s side – reluctant correspondence with the king of the angels. At first Dean and Castiel decided to keep the topics light – mostly inquiring after the rebuilding, about the university being opened for the autumn term and the food supply. It was nothing that Dean couldn’t get his observers stationed in Kings Field and Elysium to report back to him, but he had needed something to break the ice.

Since Charlie had insisted on staging a ball under the excuse of Sam parting for university and Castiel had advised him to invite people to give his popularity a boost, he also extended the invitation to Michael.

Nobody expected him to come, so they weren’t particularly disappointed when he refused.

Castiel was taking a response letter to Frank when he noticed a particular building not too far away from the post office for the first time. He had always passed it without paying any attention to it, because there was never light in the windows. He only stopped to examine it because he noticed the royal seal above the arch of the door. When he pressed his face to the dirty window panes he saw that there seemed to be machines and workbenches inside.

“That’s been deserted since the Winchester parents died,” Frank told him, annoyed at all of Castiel’s questions, as always. “It’s a royal workshop.”

There were various royal workshops around town, but they weren’t deserted. Castiel wondered if he might have found Dean’s atelier.

Since Dean wasn’t around when he went to ask him about it, he sought out Sam instead. The younger brother seemed nervous when Castiel asked him for the key to the workshop.

“Don’t you have it?” Castiel asked and Sam sighed in defeat. He went to retrieve the keys, but was reluctant to hand it over.

“It’s Dean’s… I know he’s your husband but I’m not sure he wants you to go snooping around…”

“Well, maybe you want to accompany me?” Castiel asked and saw Sam’s eyes light up. Apparently he was curious to see what had become of the place as well.

“Oh… I don’t know… It’s really none of my business,” he mumbled, but he was already putting on his shoes to leave. “Dean will kill me if we break anything,” he said when Castiel put the key in the lock and the door sprang open. Inside it smelled dry and stale, like dust. Nobody had been in here for years. Sam sneezed. The entrance to the atelier looked quite charming, even in its abandoned state. There were large white sheets covering everything and when Castiel lifted the edge off something he found it to be a comfortable looking sofa. There was a small counter and behind a workbench. There was artwork on the wall, as well as small trinkets of metal. The shelves were empty and when Castiel crossed the shop floor he found rooms behind it. There was a door leading to a courtyard out back and a stairway up and down. Upstairs was a small sitting room, bathroom and what he assumed to be Dean’s study. There were no dust sheets here and somehow this room looked more forlorn than the shop downstairs. There was a big window where the light shone inside. The slanted walls leading to a point were made of wood. It smelled of it in here and it was warmer than downstairs. There were tables covered in papers and folders and pictures and a big shelf filled with books. Castiel stepped up to what seemed to be Dean’s work table and found papers with sigils all over it. He looked at them in surprise.

“Found anything?” Sam’s voice made him almost drop the papers he had lifted up. “Sorry.”

“No… It’s okay… I was just… I found these and got lost in thought,” Castiel said and Sam came to look over his shoulder. Sam didn’t say anything for a while and turned away to study the bookshelf.

“Hah. Those are his study books. I wondered where he kept them.” Sam was apparently trying to change the topic. Castiel put the papers back down. He would have to come here with Dean and ask him about it.

“What exactly did your brother make?” Sam’s eyes lit up at once.

“All kinds of things. Machines mostly. And he’s awesome at it. It’s really a shame that he couldn’t finish his education. I’m sure there isn’t anything that Dean couldn’t have built.” Castiel was happy to let Sam praise his brother and it got him on other thoughts on the way back to the castle. The shop was carefully locked up again but Castiel hoped to return soon.

* * *

 

Dean only made a reappearance at dinner, when they were already half-way through it. He let himself fall on the bench next to Castiel, groaning dramatically.

“And where have you been, young man?” Charlie prompted. Dean didn’t make an effort to lift his head out of his palms to answer.

“Bobby got a hold of me when I was in the archives and kept me there all day,” Dean told them and sighed deeply before he reached out and took a bite out of a piece of bread, chewing with a morose expression.

“And what for? You’ve been studying the contracts and treaties for months now, I’m sure you’ve got a pretty good idea of what’s going on,” Sam said. Castiel knew that Sam’s education as a lawyer often had him sit in the archives or at the city council to study so that he knew what was waiting for him once he was done and ready to take over Bobby’s position.

“Nah, that wasn’t what he wanted me to do. He forced me through hours of looking up what families we were allied with, who had debts to whom, who we owed. Just the honorable king crap. He wants me to play friends with them again so that our network is strengthened,” Dean explained, thanking Charlie when she handed him plates with still warm food.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Sam prompted but got to see Dean glare around a forkful of mashed potatoes.

“It’s a royal pain in the ass,” he said. “But useful I guess.” They talked about the boring lectures Dean had to listen to for some more time, then Charlie piped up with the boring lectures she had had to listen to. Sam kept quiet about his and Castiel’s little adventure to the atelier so he didn’t want to bring it up at the table either. His thoughts were circling around how much more devastation could have been wrought on the angels if Dean had mobilized his father’s network. Winchester wasn’t the only big human settlement, but they were most powerful and strategically best situated.

When Dean announced that he would be heading to bed, Castiel followed him, as always with a tray of tea and dessert.

 “I have found your old workshop, Dean,” Castiel said without preamble when Dean had gotten comfortable in his armchair. He opened his eyes at once. “I got the keys and went inside.”

“Oh…,” he said and Castiel had at least expected a bit of anger at looking through his things without permission, but Dean seemed to be mostly resigned. “Upstairs too?”

“Upstairs too,” Castiel agreed, sitting down opposite Dean. “I have long since realized that you are unusually bright. But I didn’t think you capable of creating new sigils. That takes a lot of learning.”

“Well yeah. I still get lots of it wrong, don’t I?” Dean asked humorlessly. Castiel looked at him with a neutral expression and Dean sighed deeply, the tension that had been keeping him upright dissolving. He was slumped in his chair and he wiped his hand over his forehead.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me? You waged war on us, what difference would it have made that you also forged the weapons you used?” Castiel wanted to know. He didn’t mean his words to be malicious, but Dean clearly took them that way. “I’m not angry, Dean. I’m mostly surprised. The sigils I’ve seen in your study are complicated. I didn’t know that-“

“That I was that clever?” Dean’s dry and harsh voice made Castiel stop and when he felt Dean’s eyes on him he shook his head.

“I didn’t know that you were this experienced in this field,” Castiel told him, trying to make his voice sound gentle. Dean was clearly upset. “I can build new spells and traps. I can unravel them just as well. But I’ve studied 200 years. You had less than 5.” Dean laughed humorlessly, opening his hands and shrugging.

“Full of surprises, aren’t I?” he asked and there was that old self-depreciating tone of voice that still got on Castiel’s nerves.

“Yes, you are,” Castiel commented, his voice flat and Dean flinched at it.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I was ashamed. It’s like Sam said once… The knowledge we have is supposed to protect us… Not be thwarted in a way that it can hurt,” he said quietly and with a sigh he stood up. Castiel let him, watching him pace a few steps before Dean faced him again, his expression pained. “I was proud of it, Cas. It was disgusting that I had to use my skills for the slaughter of people but I was proud. I managed to figure out all these things, I could get a glimpse into how you ticked. I saw the cracks in your protection, where I could drive my knife in and push until you fell apart. It’s like machinery. I saw a challenge before me and I worked until I figured it out.” Dean shook his head, grabbing the back of his chair and leaning his weight on his arms. “I’m sorry, Cas. That I thought I had you guys figured out but didn’t bother to look beyond how you can be hunted and killed.”

“I know,” was all Castiel said and Dean fell into silence as well.

“Being sorry doesn’t change anything, does it?” Dean muttered, then he let go of the chair and turned around. There was anger and tension in his body while he stripped. He ignored the tea and roughly pulled the sheet from the bed to get in. Castiel didn’t say anything. He drank his tea, ate the biscuits, undressed, switched off the light and went to bed. Dean had firmly turned his back on him even. Castiel reached out his hand, putting his palm on the naked, wingless back. Dean’s skin was warm and freckled, moving with each breath he took.

“Of course it matters,” Castiel told him soothingly, rubbing his palm in small circles over Dean’s shoulder blades. “You don’t have to get angry at me because you feel shame. It’s okay to feel shame, but don’t let it stop you all the time.” Dean didn’t answer even though Castiel knew that he wasn’t asleep. Eventually he withdrew his hand. “I feel you should go back to your workshop. Clearly you have dedication and passion that could go into more productive and peace bringing activities. I feel it would do you good to see that even after your hands have been blood stained, they won’t taint everything they touch.”

Dean moved, just a slow shift at first, but then he turned on his back, with his hand on his chest. Both were looking up at the dark canopy above Dean’s bed.

“I like that idea,” Dean said after a long time and he turned his head to look at Castiel, smiling. Castiel returned it.

* * *

 

Dean was sulking like a child when he accompanied Castiel to his old atelier a week later. Even though he had shown willingness to set foot in it again, he was now behaving like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Castiel tolerated his grumpy silence and his occasional protests when Castiel cleaned something in a way that Dean didn’t want it to be cleaned. In the end it took them another week to make the place look presentable again. It was a project that entertained Castiel, something else to keep him occupied next to the running of the household, the dire correspondence with the angelic court, the more agreeable correspondence with Jody and the training in the early mornings that he still did not see the point of.

Dean was sitting in his too warm room, on the bench right before the open window. He was staring out of it when Castiel joined him, handing him a couple of letters.

“I thought you’d be hiding here,” Castiel said, to which Dean muttered a “was not”. He took the letters while Castiel sat down at his table to study the sigils some more. He had told Dean that he was looking for ways to break and counter them and while Dean hadn’t been happy to have some layer of protection stripped away, he had conceded that it was something that Castiel deserved to do. The angelic spell workers were probably at it as well even though they had left them relatively little to work with. And the damage was done anyway. Dean knew that some traps he had written might not be the strongest, but they were strong enough to overpower them and even harder for angels to break. The protection would remain, but if Castiel was able to write counter spells to the things that could hurt angels then that was alright. Castiel understood that Dean feared the vengeance of the angels in case they ever felt like striking back. Castiel assumed that they wouldn’t, but it was very little reassurance for Dean.

“Oh,” he heard Dean say and turned to look at him. Dean raised his head to meet Castiel’s eyes. “Michael invited me to the city, so that I could look around at the progress. I mean he doesn’t sound thrilled about it, but it’s also not like he could keep me out. I’m just surprised that he suggested it before I had to basically beg.”

“That’s good,” Castiel told him with a smile. Dean got up and leant against the table next to Castiel. “What are you going to reply?”

“That I accept of course. Though I’m going to ask him to let you come too,” Dean told him and Castiel’s breath got caught in his throat. But before he could become too excited he forced himself to be rational.

“He will say no.” Dean wanted to protest and Castiel very well knew that Dean could make Michael agree. “You are trying to get me into Michael’s good graces, Dean. If he will say no, we have to accept it.” Dean begrudgingly accepted that. They sent the letter off together via currier just half an hour later. Castiel wasn’t particularly hopeful to receive a positive answer.

Dean was angrier than him when Michael’s refusal reached them four days later.

“That dick says that I’m coming on a political visit and that it’s no place for wives! Who the hell does he think he is?” Castiel pulled the letter out of Dean’s hands before he could crumple it. Castiel put it on the table for future filing away but when he turned back Dean was right in front of him, his expression agitated. Dean put his hands against Castiel’s arms. “Who does he think you are? You are the queen.”

“Angels don’t have queens. Mothers are never queens,” Castiel explained and then he felt Dean sigh before he pressed his lips against Castiel’s forehead. “I’m not sad. At least you will able to go and talk to him.”

“I fear it’ll just be a diplomatic mess. You know last time you were basically the only thing that could keep me from burning down the other half of the city.”

“Well, you’ve got me at home, so don’t burn down the other half of the city,” Castiel told him, trying for a bit of light-hearted humor. Dean’s mouth did quirk up and he pressed another kiss to Castiel’s forehead.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be fine. You’re growing up well,” Castiel assured him, reaching out to put his hands on Dean’s waist, patting his sides awkwardly before letting go again. Dean huffed a laugh against Castiel’s hair, then he pulled back.

“Well, Michael’s lucky that you’re here,” Dean replied, then he let Castiel go and stepped back. His expression was serious again. “I will accept then. I will talk to him and visit whoever of your family is ready to receive me.” Castiel silently thanked him with a smile.

* * *

 

_“Dearest Castiel._

_Your city’s so hushed. I have been invited to stay in the royal palace to sleep. Both Benny and Victor insisted on having me heavily guarded. Enemy lands. That’s what they said. And I cannot deny that it feels that way. I thread carefully, at least as carefully I dare to thread so as not to give them reason to doubt my power._

_Enemy lands._

_That just rings in my head. Probably because that’s what I always considered this to be. That or a conquest._

_When Metatron speaks to me – which he does often though I assume that shouldn’t really surprise me with him being the voice of your king and all that – he tends to call me Righteous Man. I have not yet figured out why you could call the one who conquered you and destroyed half of your city righteous. I didn’t want to annoy him, so I didn’t really ask._

_Michael hasn’t received me yet, so I took to look at the city, guided by Metatron. I called on your father too to see how he was doing. He wasn’t particularly happy to see me but he showed me around his new villa. I told him how well you were doing and I assume that appeased him at least a bit. He assured me that he was in relatively good health and that no madness had befallen him due to the fall from Grace. I assume he meant his loss of wings, but I wasn’t sure. I felt it rude to ask._

_Tomorrow Michael claims to have time for me. Wish me luck._

_I miss you._

_With love,_

_Dean.”_

* * *

 

After the soft beds at Elysium the bench he lay on in the carriage carrying him back to Barnes Grove, felt like torture. Dean was tired and happy to be gone from Elysium. Sometimes he questioned Castiel’s wish to go back there. It was an odd, unloving place, with odd, unloving characters.

Michael especially.

When he had stood in the ruins of his audience hall, surrounded by flames and at the mercy of Dean, he hadn’t seemed threatening. But the chandelier had been put back up, the crystals throwing glittering light on the restored mosaic floor below. He had felt rather imposing. He was a cool and calculating character, though he still did not dare to push too far. Dean still had the upper hand, he would probably always have the upper hand if he kept on his feet. Angels in general seemed to be sluggish to adapt to changes. They were good at being obedient and upholding an ancient order, but if you disturbed something in the intricate balance that they had built their society upon, things fell to ruin quickly. But they still had Michael, and Michael was one creepy bastard.

_“Will you fight against the demons? You have waged war against us just to gain safe and undisturbed passaged to the sulfurous lands. Of course a king with such ruthless dedication will fight.”_

Michael’s snide voice still rang in Dean’s ear.

Fuck him. Dean knew well enough that he had no proper legitimization to keep up the settlement if there wasn’t a war being prepared. Now all he did was control the angels for no other reason than having vanquished them in battle. This was far from ideal. Kings Field should be more than just an outpost to keep an eye on the angel’s movements. It was meant to be a way station to war. It only existed because of war. Michael was right to question its continued existence.

Dean groaned, knowing well that he wouldn’t get any sleep, even though he could breathe easier now that he no longer seemed to be surrounded by a threat. He closed his eyes and wished to be back home.

* * *

 

Castiel knew not to be disappointed that Michael had not made any allusions to him being able to return. If he had understood Dean correctly then he had not even been mentioned properly.

“ _I hope your spouse is in good health_ was all he had said. I swear,” Dean told him. Castiel was sitting by the window, watching the rain. It had cooled down quite a bit and even the upstairs room of Dean’s workshop was becoming an agreeable place. Wind ruffled Castiel’s hair and he leant his head against the window frame.

“And you told him what?” Castiel asked, not turning around to look at Dean. Somehow he was a little bit angry. But there must have been a purpose to Michael’s lack of interest. Maybe he wasn’t sorry for giving him away, maybe he had stopped caring about his fate the moment Dean turned back to take Castiel to Winchester.

“That you were homesick but that it didn’t stop you from ruling the kingdom with me,” Dean’s voice sounded closer than before. He looked over his shoulder, seeing Dean stand behind him, his hands held out before they settled on Castiel’s shoulders. “From the look on his face he didn’t believe me.”

“I’m not surprised,” Castiel said and let Dean rub his palms over Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel turned his head slightly, looking up at Dean. Somehow he wanted to ask him whether Michael had desired to know about children. He didn’t want to give Dean a reason to me more wary of Michael. A simple refusal to assist had caused war before and while Castiel was sure that Dean had a more mature handle of his emotions now, he still was doubtful. Michael considered a bigger picture and his plans were more long-term than Dean’s. What if Dean would react brashly when he learnt that Michael had a vague hope for Dean’s demise? Castiel shook his head. There was little point in him keeping Michael’s secret any longer, he had very little obligation towards a man who felt he had none towards Castiel.

“Did Michael want to know if I was expecting?” Dean seemed surprised to hear that. He sat down on the bench next to Castiel.

“No, he didn’t. Unless that’s what he meant to ask when he inquired after your health…,” Dean told him after moment of thinking.

“If he hasn’t been informed that we are not bound, then maybe he simply assumed,” Castiel mused and Dean shrugged.

“What does it matter?” Dean asked him and Castiel clenched his fists. He wanted to tell him.

“Michael hopes that we’ll have children and that one of them will be the next in line for the throne.”

“Well, yes I thought that was obvious? One of our children will sit on the throne. That’s kind of the point of political marriages,” Dean told him, but lifted an eyebrow when Castiel shook his head.

“He hopes for one of them to overthrow you,” he confessed, his voice silent. Dean didn’t say anything and Castiel wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he had because he wasn’t looking at him.

“What a poor, ridiculous son of a bitch,” Dean growled after a while and when Castiel did look up he found Dean raising his eyebrows at him. “What kind of plan is that?” He shook his head in irritation and put his hands on Castiel, pulling him towards him. Castiel didn’t resist and he felt tension ease out of himself. Had he been so nervous just sharing this?

“I assume it is a rather weak one,” Castiel agreed and was surprised when he heard Dean laugh. He could feel it in Dean’s chest, the agreeable sound vibrating against Castiel’s cheek. “Why is that so funny to you?”

“It’s not funny. It’s sad. It’s damn sad actually that he thinks I’m such a shitty human that my own kids would want to murder me,” Dean said, but there was still something deceptively cheerful in his voice.

“I didn’t plan for it. That’s just the wedding wish he bestowed upon me. May you give birth to hateful children I assume.” Dean laughed again and even Castiel had to smile. It really wasn’t funny. Dean pushed against Castiel’s shoulders, cupping his cheeks when there was enough distance between them to look at each other. Dean was smiling.

“You won’t. Don’t worry… If you ever have kids, they’ll be great like you. I promise,” he said, rubbing his thumbs against Castiel’s cheekbones. “And if you won’t have any because you’ve got things to do that are more important to you, then that’s fine too. Anything you’ll do will be fine.” Castiel looked at Dean, studying his expression, but there was nothing but honesty and adoration in his eyes. So Castiel smiled and nodded. Dean mimicked it, then he let go of him again to groan.

“But seriously? I thought angels cared about family. Surely they wouldn’t kill their parents.”

“Michael waged war against his own brother when he felt the need arise. Family ties have not yet stopped an angel from striking down another. Honor and duty is more important than family to most,” Castiel explained and Dean snorted at that. Castiel rolled his eyes. “Don’t look like this.”

“Like what?” Dean asked, frowning.

“Like you think that makes us uncivilized. I have seen enough of human history to know that the power hungry will kill everyone in their way.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean said, laughing faintly. “I think we’re all a little bit fucked up.” Castiel’s mouth pulled up in a small smile. “But fuck Michael anyway and his stupid plans.” Dean put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and pulled him close enough so that he could kiss his head. “He was an idiot to let you go.”

“I hope he’ll start to see that eventually,” Castiel teased even though there was a part of him that actually hoped that Michael would come to regret his choice to let Castiel go. Knowing the king however, that would not be the case. But right now Castiel didn’t feel like worrying about it. Right now, he was okay.

* * *

 

Summer made a last sputtering return at the beginning of October. They had safely seen Sam off to university and Dean was returning from a two week stay at the coast. The mornings were chilly and wet, but the sun still was strong when the clouds cleared up.

Castiel used the last good weather to try to stretch his wings. As promised, Lisa had supplied him with exercises and while he was quite in shape thanks to the half-hearted training he did in the mornings with Jo or other students of the academy, his wings needed work. He couldn’t muster enough strength in his wings to carry himself high enough into the air to fly properly. Ever since he had been determined as a potential Mother, his days of running around with his wings out had been over. Few angels flew in the city anyway.

Dean was watching his progress with amusement from his study window. Preparing for winter was a busy task that required going over the books and sorting out provisions. The kingdom was rich and never ran into difficulties with food supplies, but someone had to make sure that it ran like a well-oiled piece of machinery. Taking care that Kings Field was going well and that his allies in neighboring lands had all they needed were new tasks. Dean was immensely glad that he had spent the last months learning how to deal with these kinds of things. In comparison to what he had to take care of now, waging war had seemed easy – _had_ in fact been easy.

“We’re not gonna bring in the exotic stuff from overseas now. Or other outlandish things. We’re gonna have to put money into keeping protection up when the monsters get on our nerves.” Bobby’s voice washed over Dean and while he took care to answer with a hum or a yes every once in a while, his attention was straying. Castiel was still in the gardens, apparently having given up on trying to fly and was now helping carry vegetables into the kitchens. Some kids were trailing him, animatedly talking with him.

A balled up piece of paper hit the back of Dean’s head.

“What are you staring at, boy?” Bobby seemed disgruntled and Dean could relate. It felt like they hadn’t actually breathed fresh air in days. How Bobby had managed to take care of this all before Dean had been man enough to step up to the challenge, was beyond him. When Dean just shrugged goofily Bobby rolled his eyes. “How are things on that front anyway?” Dean raised an eyebrow in confusion. Bobby waved his hand towards the window. “With Cas. You’ve been writing back and forth with Elysium, wearing the poor couriers thin.” Dean’s heart sank at that.

“I promised to try to get him home, Bobby… There’s nothing that would make me happier than just giving Michael a kick in his stubborn ass and let the thing rest. Make a home for Cas here. But Cas made it pretty clear some months ago that he wants to go home and that he won’t be happy here.”

“That’s what he said when you’ve held him captive. Do you think he still wants to leave now? He’s found his place here,” Bobby told him and Dean rubbed his fingers over his chin, before he folded his hands on the table. “He had the chance to stay at Kings Field but he came back.”

“Yeah. And I know that’s good. But… But I want to make sure that he has the option to go home… Hell, I want him to go home, even if it hurts like hell even thinking about having to let him go,” Dean told him. “I think we’re not gonna work out… Not if I don’t give him this choice.” Bobby watched him with a neutral expression, but after a while he heaved a sigh and leant back in his chair.

“That’s good, boy… I’m proud to hear that,” he said and Dean managed a weak smile. Bobby returned the smile, but then he cleared his throat and jabbed his finger at a couple of numbers in his book. “We need to ship out iron and silver to Basswood Grange before the days will get too short to replace the wards.”

Dean sighed heavily and pulled his pen and paper towards him. He was actually looking forwards to the days getting shorter, if only it meant he could get away with slipping into bed a bit earlier.

* * *

 

Castiel almost slipped on the first ice. He flapped his wings, keeping himself on his feet.

“We need to salt the steps,” Dean muttered, following Castiel out into the crisp morning air. It was still dark outside so the streetlamps were glowing softly, dimming already with the advancing dawn. The king stretched his arms. “We should just have our letters delivered to us, like regular royalty.” He shivered even though he was wearing a coat with a fur collar. Castiel was happy with a light coat, not feeling the cold as Dean apparently did. It had been nice to see how the world outside changed. Back at home the gardens were always green and in bloom due to the circulation of Grace.

“You insisted on it,” Castiel reminded him and Dean groaned. “You also said that we’d get hot chocolate and fresh bread after picking up our letters.” This seemed to bring a bit of a bounce back to Dean’s steps. Dean had been up late, signing certificates to the people who had been accepted to the academy. He’d probably also stay up late tonight, celebrating with Jo. They reached the post office and while Frank didn’t bother to talk to them beyond greetings, they did get a couple of letters from him.

Dean gave a shiver when they had to step out again and wrapped himself around Castiel for a second.

“Why are you so much warmer?” he asked, rubbing his cold nose against Castiel’s cheek.

“I’m an angel,” was all Castiel said but he let Dean hug him some more.

“Come on, step off my porch!” Frank’s yelling made Castiel open his eyes again. Dean sighed heavily and let go of Castiel, keeping one hand on his back though. He rarely touched Castiel’s wings, but when Castiel didn’t react when his fingers brushed them, he pushed his icy fingers into the feathers.

“Is that uncomfortable?” Dean asked, sighing in relief when Castiel shook his head. They made their way to the bakery, getting invited to stay in the small sitting room to drink their tea and eat a lovely breakfast. Castiel went through the letters. Dean was reading a letter from Sam, when Castiel noticed that one of the letters on Dean’s pile was in fact addressed to him. He had recognized the seal of Michael’s court and had automatically put it away for Dean before checking the addressee, but now that it was lying on top of the pile he saw that in read “Castiel Winchester”. Dean looked at him when Castiel hastily cut the letter open.

“Is something wrong?” Castiel didn’t reply, unfolding the parchment with bated breath and trembling fingers.

_“Honorable Queen of Winchester_

_On behalf of King Michael I, Metatron, would like to invite you to our yearly Midwinter festivities. King Michael has become aware of your interest to see your old home again. After much deliberation he has decided to grant you that wish._

_The audience will be held on Midwinter. If your king is able to spare you, please take up residence in Kings Field a week in advance. We will supply you with appropriate garments before the festivities._

_I hope to hear from you._

_Your humble servant,_

_Metatron.”_

Castiel blinked in surprise and re-read the letter. He gave a start when Dean put his hand over Castiel’s.

“Is everything alright, sweetheart?” Dean asked silently. Castiel turned his hand around to be able to hold Dean’s.

“Yes…,” he told him, then he looked up at Dean, still finding his expression to be one of concern. “I have been invited to an audience with Michael.” For a heartbeat Dean didn’t say anything and the wild thought that he would not let him go crossed his mind, but then Dean started smiling. He reached over the table and hugged Castiel, kissing his cheek.

“There you go. I knew he’d relent one day!” he said, gently pinching the place where he had previously kissed Castiel. “How about you shake off that incredulous look? You’re going home!” Castiel did smile now, letting the letter drop to grab both of Dean’s hands.

“Thank you,” he whispered, not trusting his voice. Dean gave his hands a gentle squeeze and Castiel leant over the table to kiss the small, sad crease between his eyebrows away.

* * *

 

Castiel felt that he had barely blinked and the castle grounds were covered in snow. The last weeks had been spent in a flurry of activity, both to prepare his journey to Elysium and also the regular house of Winchester winter preparations. Humans were fragile, he knew that, and the potentially harsh winter of this continent affected them and left them vulnerable. The natives were better adapted and it was not rare that news reached the angel’s capital of groups of creatures attacking humans in winter.

“Sweetheart, can’t you close the window?” Castiel looked over his shoulder, finding Dean standing behind him, wrapped in a blanket. Castiel smiled at him and closed the window, locking the frost out. The room was well heated, though many corridors and other rooms remained cold. Dean sighed and took a step closer, wrapping his arms and the blanket around Castiel. “What were you looking at?”

“Nothing,” Castiel replied, getting comfortable against Dean’s chest. “I was in thought.”

“Are you nervous about leaving tomorrow?” Dean asked, his voice sounding slightly clipped. He had done his best to avoid speaking about Castiel’s impending departure and Castiel hadn’t pressed him.

“No, are you?” Castiel asked him and Dean sighed.

“Terrified,” he confessed. Castiel put his hands around Dean’s waist and looked up into his sad eyes.

“Nothing will happen to me,” Castiel told him, “I promise.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Dean told him after a while and clung to Castiel. “You’ll write, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Castiel replied promptly. Dean remained silent and Castiel soaked up his warmth and the familiar comfort that now came with his closeness.


	11. Chapter 11

 

The city was still in deep slumber when Castiel stepped down the stairs into the courtyard. He lifted his woolen coat before he reached the ground. There were puddles of melted snow collecting between the cobble stones. Snow had fallen all night, but it had been too wet and too warm for it to settle. Some of it was still falling, little flecks of wet powder in the dimmed light flooding into the courtyard.

Even the loading of the carriage was a silent, somber affair. Dean was standing to the side, looking up at the still pitch black sky, clouds of his warm breath streaming from his mouth. Castiel turned his attention away from him, watching how the horses were being attached to the carriage by silent stable hands. Benny was walking around the courtyard, observing. Castiel had assured them that he could make the journey on his own, but both Dean and Benny had insisted that he should be accompanied. His status as royalty at least demanded this. Castiel knew that Dean was afraid of the things lurking in the winter frozen landscape. Of the claws and teeth and venom that just waited for humans to leave their cities.

“Barnes Grove will be quite nasty this time of the year,” Benny spoke up next to Castiel, attracting his attention. Not much of the knight’s face was showing, wrapped as he was against the cold. “You’re okay, Cas?”

“Yes,” he replied firmly and saw Benny look over his head towards where Dean was standing next to the horses now, petting them. “We are ready to leave I assume.”

“Yeah,” Benny said with a barely suppressed sigh. He pulled his hat down into his face, almost hiding his eyes before turning away to order for the gates to be opened. Castiel walked over to Dean. He knew that he hadn’t gotten any sleep but the weariness he saw on Dean’s face was not brought about by a lack of sleep.

“Dean… It’s time,” he said and Dean let go of the horses at once to look at Castiel, a smile on his face. “I will write to you as soon as possible.” Dean nodded but said nothing. Castiel assumed that maintaining his smile was too much effort to speak as well. “Thank you.” This made Dean’s expression crack and he lifted his knuckles to his mouth.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Dean managed to say and Castiel went to embrace him.

“This is just an audience, Dean… You might not have to miss me for long,” Castiel told him. Dean pressed his lips to Castiel’s temple, just keeping them there and breathing in his scent. After a while he kissed him again and let him go. “I enjoyed these lasts weeks but it means a lot to me that you let me go.” Dean nodded slowly, leaning into Castiel’s touch when he reached up to cup Dean’s face. “Good-bye, Dean.”

“Good-bye, Cas,” Dean returned, leaning down to kiss Castiel’s forehead. Castiel lifted his head to softly kiss Dean on the mouth. Dean was surprised and Castiel smiled at him.

“We will see each other again, I promise.” Castiel gave Dean’s hands a squeeze, then he turned away from him, climbing into the carriage. He didn’t open the small window until they were almost out of the gate. When he did he saw Dean stand on the guard post on top of the gate, waving. Castiel opened the window a bit more and waved back, smiling at him.

“You’re good?” Benny asked, when Castiel came to join him in the little cabin at the front.

“I’m good,” he assured him and Benny turned to look at the road that lay before them, winding through dark, bare fields.

He would return home. Castiel pressed his palm together, resting his fingertips against his forehead to whisper a prayer. Or maybe it was a promise that he made to the silent arched sky above him.

_He would return home._

* * *

 

Their stop at Barnes Grove was fortunately short and soon Castiel was back in the Winchester residence of Kings Field. Jody invited him to dinner so that he didn’t have to prepare something himself after the long journey.

There were already boxes waiting for him by the time he woke up on the next morning.

“Got dropped off by an angel, but he wouldn’t stay to chat,” Benny said when he came back from his early morning patrol. His entire face was red from the cold and he gladly accepted when Castiel told him to take a warm bath.

The boxes held the promised clothes and Castiel marveled at the fabrics and colors. The gown was white, but it came with more layers in a dark blue and silver bands. Other boxes held shoes, a cape and jewelry. Even though there was a silver headdress, Castiel decided that he would wear the crown he had received on his coronation. His stay at Lawrence had left its marks on Castiel. Wearing the human crown was the least he could do to show how he had been changed.

* * *

 

On the morning of the winter solstice a small train of angels came to pick Castiel up. They refused to step through the gates, even when Jody had welcomed them in. Castiel put on his cape, tugging the hood over his head.

The angels coming to pick him up lowered their heads when he stepped through the gate. He gently rejected the veil he was offered.

“I have left the city with it covering my face so that others didn’t have to feel shame for what was being done to me,” he said. “I will not return to the city with my head bowed.” Hester, who was leading the group, smiled proudly, though it was quickly replaced by a stern expression when she ordered the group to move.

They made their way through the high grass, easily finding the barely noticeable trail through the meadows. The wind was blowing and the clouds moved quickly in the dim, gray sky. Castiel looked up, closing his eyes and savoring the wind, the Grace and the whispers of the Host.

The journey was long but for Castiel it felt like no time at all had passed before the walls and buildings of Elysium came into view. Castiel recalled the city with its white walls crumbling. He recalled the black banners waving in the dark ash clouds. He recalled the fire and the stench. The scent of ash and the imprints of wings on the sparkling ground were fresh in his memory.

There were no banners now. The city was somber and pristine, as it should be and Castiel was almost surprised. They passed the gates and the song of the Host and the pleasant hum of Grace lifted Castiel’s spirits at once. He couldn’t help the tears that sprung to his eyes as he saw the ground not littered by rubble and the fallen. Angels were in the street, talking silently among themselves when they watched the small procession go through the streets.

When they arrived at the steps leading up to Michael’s throne room, Castiel’s nerves almost left him. Hester accompanied him up the stairs and when the great gates opened, he saw Michael again. He was sitting on his throne but rose to his feet when they entered.

“Her Majesty the Queen, Castiel of Winchester,” Hester announced before Metatron could speak up. Castiel stepped forwards, lifting the hood away from his head. Michael’s calm expression momentarily slipped when he saw the sparkling crown on Castiel’s dark head. But he didn’t speak until he had stepped into the middle of the room.

“Welcome, Castiel. It is good to see your face again,” he told him, “You sure have changed.”

“I have,” Castiel agreed, but found his tongue tied. Michael didn’t seem to mind that he had nothing more to say at the moment. He raised his arms.

“It is Midwinter. I hope you will enjoy the festivities with us. We will talk when the day comes to its close. I hope that agrees with you.” Castiel nodded. “Good.” With this Michael was done and turned away from Castiel.

Obviously dismissed, Castiel turned to look at Hester.

“I will lead you to your chambers,” she offered and Castiel graciously accepted. When Castiel looked over his shoulder towards Michael, he found him studying him. Somehow the look he wore was not the one Castiel had hoped to see. Somehow the emotions Castiel felt right now were not the ones he had hoped to feel.

“It’ll be alright. Don’t worry. He’s just formal because you can’t talk in private. This is a delicate matter,” Hester tried to comfort him, guiding him back to the rooms that had once belonged to him.

“It’s a public matter. It shouldn’t be private,” Castiel argued. His room felt bare and cold. He went to open the windows to let in some fresh air. It only made it marginally better.

“Maybe not,” Hester said and pressed a kiss into Castiel’s unruly hair. “Relax. Enjoy the festivities. And then you’ll see. Michael will allow you to come back.” She picked at Castiel’s wings until they looked more presentable. “Okay?” Castiel sighed, but then he smiled.

“You’re right. Thank you, sister.” Hester pinched his cheek, then she left him alone to return to her duties. Castiel walked over to his bed and let himself drop face first into the covers.

He was home. Now he just wanted to sleep until everything had fallen into place again and he no longer felt like he didn’t belong.

* * *

 

Midwinter was a quieter affair than he remembered it to be. Castiel used to build garlands of light with his siblings to hang on the great tree of Eden. There were songs and prayers added and good food shared before hearing Metatron speak to them in the cathedral.

Even though the angels continued their life as always, the war had left deep wounds. Castiel spent the day alone in his study, eyes on the empty chess board and thoughts straying. At noon he was joined by his sisters, who helped make a small garland. They all didn’t feel like speaking, but it was common to recall family members that had been lost and to uphold a cheerful spirit in their honor. They talked about their mother and their lost brothers, about their father who had refused to show himself in public with his cut off wings.

“Father prefers it this way. He never liked having to deal with Michael anyway,” Rachel assured Castiel, who, despite the centuries, did not know his father very well.

They partook in a small meal that Castiel prepared for them and then they joined the procession to the cathedral.

“Our loss will shape us. Losses do not come without consequences. The Tree of Eden will bloom again in due time. Let us not bear ill will as a soil fed by hatred will only bring forth grief.” Metatron’s voice rang out far beyond the walls of the cathedral, with its still bare walls. Castiel let the words wash over him, wondering what the others were thinking.

_“We are not untouched. We are not unhurt.”_ The words echoed in Castiel’s ears as he walked towards the garden, head bowed as they sang praise. The tree had lost many leaves and even when the garlands were fastened to it, it looked bare and sad.

“So few of them,” someone lamented next to Castiel.

“It hasn’t been this bare for millennia. What a sad sight for the children to see.” Castiel tried not to listen, but the hushed voices got straight to his core, closing up his throat with a burning feeling. He was crying, he knew it.

Nobody felt like dwelling, so they sang and danced in the fields before the music dwindled and everyone returned to their own home.

Castiel was leaving the gardens, when someone stepped into his path.

“It’s your husband that is responsible for our diminished numbers,” Michael said silently. Castiel stopped and both Rachel and Hester shot him a worried look. He waved at them though. Whatever Michael now had to say, he would deal with it on his own. When the women were gone, Michael fixed his eyes upon him again. “Does that weigh on you?”

“Does it weigh on you that he has become my husband through your will?” Castiel countered. Michael gazed at him, not fazed at all. After a while he pulled his mouth into a small, grim grin.

“Well, let us walk. I’d prefer to talk on the balcony, where we have both privacy and a good view over the lands that still belong to us.” Michael didn’t wait for Castiel to agree to this, talking the steep stairs that wound their way up towards the higher points of the castle. He followed slowly, heart beating nervously.

Michael was already looking at him expectantly when Castiel arrived at the top of the stairway. His wings were fanned out and he looked magnificent. This was the man that he should have married. Instead he had the crown of a human king on his head. Somehow, the look Michael shot him – a cool and calculating smile that darkened his features – made Castiel burn with shame. There was no reason he should be ashamed. There was no reason why he shouldn’t hold his head high and expose his wings.

He had done nothing wrong.

“Thank you for receiving me,” Castiel started and Michael’s smile grew. “I did not think that I should ever see this city again.”

“Neither did I,” Michael commented. “I assumed that your task was rather clear.” Castiel frowned at the king.

“If Dean lives, you have to keep by his side,” Michael continued, not listening to the small sound of protest coming from Castiel. “Once bound to you, he would have profited from your long life span. You were to stay with him, keep him content and give him children. Just like a good Mother.” He crossed his arms over his chest and walked to the railing of the balcony. “I must have underestimated your stubbornness.”

“Stubbornness? Because I didn’t want to bear the brunt of your inability to guard against a human army?” Michael turned his head, his eyes cold and cutting. Somehow his judgmental silence made Castiel only angrier.

“You wear the crown of Winchester on your head, but still Dean isn’t with you,” Michael commented and prevented Castiel from shouting at him. “If your angelic heart is so weak that it came to care for him, then why are you here now? Why would you want to come here?”

“Because I was never supposed to leave,” Castiel replied with a frown.

“Hm.” Michael uncrossed his arms and put them on the railing. He looked over the garden and the lands lying before them, bathed in moonlight.

“Well, if you want to return I am not stopping you,” Michael finally said and Castiel’s heart jumped a beat. He had not counted on Michael making it so easy for him to come back. He had not dared to hope that his exile would be lifted off him without the king stubbornly clinging to his past decisions.

“You and Dean aren’t bound, which means that Dean is still mortal,” Michael continued before Castiel could start thanking him for his generosity. The complacent tone of his voice made Castiel falter and feel suddenly chilled. “He is weak and delicate. And apparently he has lost the brutal strength given to him by anger and hate.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel chanced to ask and Michael lifted a hand, pointing towards the mountains behind which the lands of the demons lay.

“Maybe your precious Dean has become careless. But the demons are restless and have started pressing in on the angelic outposts. We can hold them off, but _should_ we?” He turned towards Castiel, his expression grim. “The demons understand Dean taking the city and building a settlement as the war declaration is was supposed to be. And they have been waiting with bated breath for so long.” Castiel was rooted to the spot, unsure what he should do with this information. Dean had never mentioned the demons taking any kind of actions against him. And Castiel had been stupid. He had assumed that asking Dean not to fight would solve the problem, but of course the threat was not gone just because Dean had decided to rest his arms.

“Surely you would stop them. You are part of Dean’s dominion now.”

“That we might be, but the demons do not care about us. Let’s say we fail to keep the gates, the demons would not turn towards us. They know that we cannot be killed as easily as the humans are,” Michael told him. Michael reached out and patted Castiel’s cheeks but to him it felt like a slap. “If you prove useless in securing me an angelic Winchester ruler that I can take under my wing, then there’s at least the chance that the demons would do their job.”

“I’m not- You can’t be serious about this,” Castiel protested. Michael didn’t reply, turning his eyes away from Castiel to look over the lands.

“We’ll see. Our lives last long enough to see kings come and go. Maybe we can just stand by and watch humans and demons wipe each other out.” Castiel didn’t stay. The moments Michael’s words had left his mouth, he turned around and ran, not listening to the king call his name. The wind caught his wings and he spread them. They were strong enough now to carry him and he almost screamed in terror as he lost the ground under his feet, soaring over the gardens and the roofs of the houses bellow.

Michael didn’t try to stop him. And why should he have?

Castiel felt sick and he shivered violently, but still he forced his wings to carry him. He was openly sobbing by the time he crash landed in front of the gates of Kings Field.

“Cas!! Cas, what is wrong?!” The world turned black momentarily and the next thing Castiel saw was Benny crouching next to him, looking for wounds.

“Take me back,” Castiel said, hissing when Jody brushed her palms over his trembling wings.

“To the city?” Benny asked.

“To Dean.” The knight looked at him with wide eyes, but Castiel grabbed for his hand and hauled himself to his feet. He took a calming breath and shook his wings despite the ache in them. When he spoke next his voice had recovered some of its calm even though he still felt shaken. “Take me back to Dean.”

* * *

 

Benny couldn’t get the exact reason why Castiel wanted to return all of a sudden out of him, but he nevertheless quickly organized the carriage to be readied. They didn’t stop to rest at Barnes Grove, but drove as long as Benny could keep awake, then Castiel drew a protective circle around the carriage, allowing Benny to rest while he kept his eyes open. He was too worried by thoughts to want to sleep now.

He tried not to think about Michael’s words too much. He knew that the angelic king wasn’t a particular hateful person, but he was narrow-minded. He and Dean weren’t completely different in their beings. Michael was content to let fate run its course, nudging it along into one direction or another without interfering directly. Dean however was well prepared to get his hands drenched in blood to change the world in his favor.

Castiel missed his home fiercely, especially now that he had been allowed just the shortest glimpse of it. The hope that he could return and be happy as he had been before, had been destroyed in the bud though.

Useless, Michael had called him. Too stubborn to take his role as a Mother seriously, not able to put the greater good of the angels over his personal fate.

Castiel shook his head, staring out into the darkness.

Maybe he was useless, but at least he would be doing the right thing.

* * *

 

Dean burst out of the backdoor, almost missing the first step of the stairs down, but he managed to hold on to the railing and make his way down without breaking any bones. He had woken to a telegram from Jody that Benny and Castiel were on their way back.

“ _Cas flew here. Crashed right outside the gates_ ,” the telegram had read and that was enough to override all the surprised jubilation that Castiel’s return could have brought him. He was worried sick by the time Castiel stepped down from the carriage. Dean quickly let his eyes fly over his form, his heartbeat rapid and his stomach churning. Had Michael done anything to him? Had he been hurt?

Castiel looked like always, whole and healthy, even though quite rumpled. His face was pale and he took two steps that were more light bounces because his wings flapped and tossed him straight into Dean’s arms.

“What happened?” Dean asked when Castiel let go of him again after a short but strong hug. Castiel looked shaken, but there was determination in his expression as well, so whatever had happened couldn’t have been a total disaster.

“You two better get inside. It’s cold and… I know you don’t care but people are looking at you two staring at each other.” Benny’s voice registered with some delay, but it did move Dean into action. He grabbed Castiel’s hand and tugged him to the stairs. They went into the next available room that allowed them some privacy. Dean shut the door and the moment he did Castiel started talking.

“I’m sorry for this almost dramatic return. I was greatly disturbed by things I have learnt at Michael’s court and even though I have since recovered my wits, it is of utmost importance that we address this issue.” He talked a tad too fast for Dean’s worried mind. He had been tossing and turning over an express letter from Kings Field and then Jody’s note hadn’t made him worry any less. He was tired and the unexpected interruption of Charlie, who popped into the room with a big can of coffee was a godsend. She didn’t say anything, but when she smiled at Castiel Dean knew that his sister was as happy to find Castiel back in the castle as he was. When Charlie was out of the room again, Dean turned his attention back to Castiel.

“So… What exactly did he say?”

“He was a phenomenal assbutt,” Castiel muttered dejectedly, drinking the coffee black and while Dean saw him shudder with his lips still attached to the cup he must have relished the bitter taste.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Dean commented, trying to relax a bit. His mind was full of border controls and improvements to Solomon’s keys and missing sentries and the foul scent of sulfur in the winter air.

“Demons are getting restless,” Castiel said and Dean’s sat up straight at once. “They are pushing closer to the gateposts. Michael probably won’t fortify them, allowing the demons to march against you. He didn’t mention that there was a controlled effort to mobilize an army, but they’ve been waiting for you to strike ever since you defeated the angels and set up camp at Kings Field.” Dean groaned, burying his face into his hands.

“So it’s true then,” he said, feeling a tiredness in his bones that he was sure hadn’t been caused by his restless night.

“You know of this?” Castiel’s voice made Dean look up again, finding a frown on his face. He didn’t want him to become suspicious of secrets Dean might have kept from him.

“Not until two days ago… Hearing it from the side of angels too just confirms it. And I… shit, Cas… What if I do have to fight?”

“A few demons stepping out of line doesn’t mean that you have to fight,” Castiel reminded him and Dean ran his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know what else to do than fight!” he argued, his voice louder in the small room than he had intended it to be. When Dean chanced to look up at Castiel he didn’t see his face contorted in disappointment or anger, but calm contemplation. “Sweetheart… I… I don’t want to go against my promise I made you… But I can’t just let this situation rest and wait for the demons to overrun us.” Castiel only nodded to that and the silence made Dean feel worse than he already did.

“Order Michael to fortify his gates. He would allow them to pass their lines because he doesn’t expect them to have any interest in attacking angels. You are the weaker enemy, even though you’re well-guarded. If you lose the line of defense Michael’s kingdom provides you with then it’s likely that you have to advance into battle like you initially intended,” Castiel told him after a while.

“Well I can certainly try to get him to hold the line, but I’m guessing that he’d prefer for me to die on the battlefield,” Dean said darkly, anger at Michael bubbling up. “Shit, that’s just the kind of asshole behavior that got Michael into this shit in the first place! Why can’t he just take action instead of waiting for things to run their course?! I hate this meddling!”

“Because he’s an angel. That’s just how we do it. We wait and see, and sometimes tweak things a bit in our favor,” Castiel explained patiently. “You can’t afford this though. You have to resolve this situation.” Dean rubbed his forehead, not arguing with Castiel.

“We have to figure out what’s going on. I still want to kill that bastard who took away my family. But I’m willing to talk about calling this war off.” He looked up when he heard the sound of Castiel getting up. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

“We need horses and luggage prepared. I leave it to you to get a map and sort out with Bobby who’s going to look after the kingdom while we’re both gone.” Dean blinked in confusion and Castiel was already out of the door by the time his brain had caught up with him. Was Castiel really thinking about going to war?

“You’re planning to march out? It will take me at least a week to mobilize a small train of soldiers,” Dean argued, nearly running after Castiel. Some servants were looking at them quizzically. This probably looked like a marital spat but that wasn’t really anything new in the House of Winchester.

“No, we’re not marching out,” Castiel said, stopping at the door leading to the office building of the guard.

“Honey, I don’t-“ Castiel sighed, cutting Dean off.

“If you take soldiers with you then it will look like an act of aggression. So we’re going alone. Just you, the king, and me.” Dean balked at that, the very thought of Castiel putting himself into this kind of danger made his stomach turn.

“No way! Why do you have to come?!”

“Because you need someone to protect you,” Castiel said and Dean stared at him. “I have learnt to use a sword. I might not be a good soldier, but I know how to guard against demons and I know how to destroy them, should it come to that. And if the worst happens, I can pull you back from the brink of death.” Dean wanted to argue, but Castiel shook his head. “If you don’t trust me to be able to do that, then say it now.”

“I do trust you. I trust you to protect me and I trust you to protect yourself.” Dean argued, “I just think it’s not a well thought out plan.” Castiel reached out to take hold of Dean’s collar, gently pulling him forwards so that he could kiss his cheek.

“It’s a Winchester kind of plan. You got pretty far on a stupid plan yourself,” he said cheekily and Dean couldn’t help laughing.

“You’re a bit of a dick, but alright,” Dean told him when Castiel smiled up at him before Dean gave him a nod and then he was off. Dean heaved a sigh. This whole situation sucked, but at least he had Castiel with him to see him through it. Dean shook himself out of his thoughts and went to seek out Bobby. The old man would probably tear him a new one for this recklessness, but he had the best maps.

“I don’t want to get lost in the sulfurous lands. That would suck,” Dean muttered to himself, still in disbelief that he would really, finally go there. Maybe, a dark little voice in his heart said, he would be able to exact his revenge now.

* * *

 

The murmur of Dean riding into demon territory went through the city. It was disbelieving whispers at first, then talk in the corridors and by the time Dean and Castiel went out to eat at Ellen’s the night before they would depart, the whole town was apparently eager to hear about the battle plans. They were already hanging out the banners wishing their king good luck in his journey.

“We’re not going out to fight. It’s just me and Cas. We’re going to try to find a diplomatic solution to the issues at hand.”

“Is it true what the newspaper says? There have been skirmishes at the borders?” someone wanted to know and it sparked a loud discussion in which Dean’s answer wasn’t of particular interest.

“Jesus Christ. Nothing gets people talking like a wedding or a war,” Dean grumbled, letting himself drop onto the bench next to Castiel. They occupied their usual, small seating area tucked into the back where there was less noise. While there were people coming over to wish them good luck, they were mostly left alone.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. I mean you’re an amazing warrior and I’ve seen Cas train. He sucks at some stuff but he’s ridiculously strong. Like, I’m sure he could lift up the entire table with you and Sam posing sexily on it, but-“ Charlie heaved a huge sigh, shaking her head. “But you could die. I mean really!”

“We’re not going to die,” Dean argued but Charlie wasn’t convinced in the least. Sam, who had returned for the winter holidays was less critical of their endeavor, but not particularly amused by it either.

“The chances of being ambushed are high. The roads that you are taking are not leading you through well populated areas. They’re not safe. I still think that you should take at least Benny with you.”

“Benny’s not going to make them any safer,” Dean argued, sighing, “Sam, we’ve discussed this…”

“No, you’ve just made the decision. Like the last time!” his younger brother hissed, clearly agitated, but trying to keep his voice from turning into a shout.

“I suggested going on our own, Sam,” Castiel interrupted the brothers’ staring match. Sam turned his head to the side, looking at Castiel with a critical expression. “If it’s just Dean I can protect him. I know I haven’t given either of you any cause to believe it, but I do have powers. I am still an angel,” he told them. The table was momentarily quiet, the sounds of the restaurant taking over. “If we need to make a quick escape I will fly.”

“You’ll grab Dean and fly off?” Charlie asked, biting her lips before she burst out laughing. “Oh man, I want to see that! I’m sure he’d yell his head off!” Dean rolled his eyes and the tense atmosphere was broken. They enjoyed their deserts and as it was getting later, Sam and Charlie excused themselves, heading back to the castle.

Castiel didn’t mind being alone with Dean, or as alone as they could be in a full inn. Dean’s fingers were gently brushing along Castiel’s wrist and the back of his hand. It was an unhurried and undemanding gesture. Castiel turned his head towards Dean and he wasn’t entirely sure what Dean saw in his expression, but it was enough to make his eyes shine warmly. He leant down to kiss him, slowly to give Castiel enough time to turn away even though Castiel had no desire to do so.

“So…,” Dean started when he drew back, licking his lips. He wasn’t quite looking up at Castiel. “Is this the kind of ‘we’re going on a dangerous mission and might die’ romance deal?” Castiel took a moment to understand the meaning of Dean’s words, but when he did he narrowed his eyes a bit.

“No. Kissing you has become something that seemed desirable to me,” Castiel explained, watching different emotions flicker over Dean’s face. After a while he lowered his head to rest his forehead against Castiel’s shoulder. “Dean? Is that not okay?” Castiel could feel Dean’s gentle laughter as a puff of breath. Dean sat up straight.

“It is, sweetheart… I’m just trying to wrap my head around it. That there’s a chance you might want me back after all the shit that’s happened is amazing,” he said with a smile on his lips and a red color to his cheeks.

“It’s a _chance_ Dean. I’m not trying to mislead you,” Castiel told him, “because I can’t make promises.” Dean was quick to shake his head.

“I don’t need promises,” he assured him, reaching out to grab both of Castiel’s hands.

“Don’t say that…” Castiel whispered, but Dean quickly pressed his lips to Castiel’s again. He was surprised, but quickly recovered to reciprocate. “And don’t stop discussions with kisses, it’s rude.” The argument was quite weak and he sighed when Dean’s fingers slipped into Castiel’s hair.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled, but then he laughed and kissed Castiel’s forehead, the press of his lips strong and lingering. Castiel wasn’t sure if it was sheer joy and relief that were coiled so tight within Dean’s body or if it was fear of having his hopes dashed.

“My experience at home hasn’t been nice,” Castiel said when Dean finally drew back, looking far more composed. “But that doesn’t mean that it will always be terrible. I still have a desire to go back to how things used to be. I’m not sure I can give up on my home just yet.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Dean assured him, but Castiel lifted his hand, effectively keeping Dean from speaking.

“That’s what being bound means, Dean. It is a means of keeping Mothers from straying, to remind them of their duty to the Host. The effects of it naturally lessen over the centuries, but…”

“But that’s centuries,” Dean muttered when Castiel had broken off to look up at Dean with an apologetic expression. “You don’t need to think in centuries with me. But I get it.” His thumbs were rubbing gentle circles on Castiel’s hipbones and he gave his sides a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Let’s say I live for 50 more years and that’s probably generous in my line of work. That’s still 50 years you’d be here.” Castiel looked up at him, confused at the words. “What? Why are you frowning?”

“I thought you had researched the binding,” he said and Dean shrugged with a look of confusion. Castiel felt the same about the turn this conversation had taken. “When I was offered to you by Michael, you weren’t just promised someone who could give you children. You were offered someone who could strengthen your rule as a king.”

“Because you’re exceptionally bright, yes and-“

“Because being bound to me means that you will profit from my long life span. You won’t be immortal, but you can’t die naturally. Not for a couple of centuries at least.” Dean took a sharp breath, staring at Castiel with wide eyes.

“Seriously?!” Dean shouted and it drew the attention of some people. He saw and tried to force his voice down, but it came out in frantic bursts anyway. “You mean I – If I had taken you that night or any night before or since – I’d have unwittingly turned myself into an immortal?!”

“You wouldn’t age, your body wouldn’t succumb to ailments and no weapon forged by humans would be able to kill you. You won’t be immortal, but decisively hard to kill.”

“So, like a cockroach?” he asked but didn’t wait for Castiel to formulate a baffled reply to that. He groaned and threw himself against the back cushions of the benches. “Shit.” After a while he lifted his hand off his face to look at Castiel. “So you’re not the only one who has to think about being ready for that kind of commitment.” Castiel sighed, but then he smiled. “Aww!” Dean whined but sat up again. “This means no sex for the foreseeable future!” Castiel wasn’t sure how to comment that, but he watched Dean’s expression change from mock annoyance, to a contemplative frown. “Unless I can think of a sigil that might prevent this.”

“You’d spend weeks or months working on a sigil just because you want to put your genitals in me?” Castiel asked, part amused and part exasperated. The humans’ drive for physical intimacy was kind of surprising. Not that there weren’t angels who had sex just for the sheer pleasure of it.

“Well, it sounds like a good project for when we’re coming back from the demons. Warrior kings have to keep themselves entertaining in periods of peace,” Dean told him and Castiel’s chest felt warm and almost constricting to see that look of shy joy on his husband’s face.

“Yes, okay. I’m sure you will be very dedicated to it,” Castiel said, not keeping a bit of teasing out of his voice. Dean winked at him.


	12. Chapter 12

 

Over the arch of the bare branches of trees, a thin moon was dimly shining through layers of high fog. A smattering of stars peeked through the clouds and there was intermitted light to guide them on their way. Dean was holding up one of his fireless torches, shining a bright beam of light right before them. The snow was high here and they had to carefully guide their horses through it. The paths around these parts were not well maintained, often just a few stones of a once paved road remaining. Dean had memorized the maps and he guided them with confidence. The forest here was just an endless sea of pale and gnarly trees that had not one leaf on them, their branches sprawling and meeting to create a roof overhead. It was like walking through a burrow.

While Dean kept his eyes on the path before them, Castiel turned his eyes all around. He could see the things which were moving in the distance; the flickers of an ignis fatuus in the darkness or the heavy panting of a hellhound. The creatures were watching them, letting them pass because while a human could easily be taken apart and guided astray, an angel couldn’t. Here in the lands of abominations where the taint of sulfur seemed to cling to the air, Castiel was at his brightest.

“I think I see the end of the forest ahead. At least there’s something up there,” Dean said and Castiel looked to where Dean pointed with the torch. Soon enough the trees were thinning out and they reached a flat space where there were some snow covered shrubberies and thorn bushes. No lights could be seen in the distance but there was what seemed to be a small village surrounded by a high but patchy wooden fence. Huts stood along the path they were taking, looking empty and dark. On their left was a building that was most likely a small farm, but there was no sound of animals and no sound of inhabitants either.

“Easy,” Dean said and even though it sounded like he was speaking to their horses, it was clearly aimed at Castiel. His wings were puffing up in alarm and every step he took towards the demonic settlement set a spark of something dark and dangerous alight in him. He swallowed down whatever it was that was making him feel ill at ease and looked towards Dean. He couldn’t see much of Dean’s face, wrapped up in coats, scarves and furs as he was, but his eyes were narrowed and his steps were unfaltering even though they were heavier than necessary, as if he was still stomping through knee high snow.

The ground below their feet was hard and frozen, but no longer covered in snow. Something was tingling in the distance, like the wind making small metal pipes beat against each other and a hound barked in the distance. Castiel could see a faint light in one of the windows that shifted but then snuffed out. Steam was rising from somewhere deeper in the village.

No one came out to meet them. The town lay in silence.

“Well, it’s not like we made our arrival known,” Dean said, shouldering a bag. They tied their horses to a small shed that was sheltered from the wind.

“I’m sure they’re aware of us,” Castiel told him, following Dean with his angel blade close at hand. He knew that Dean had a knife forged to kill demons in his belt. They made their way through the opening in the partially decayed fence. It was eerily quiet but Castiel could sense the villagers, mostly he could sense their fear. It made him put away his weapon even when a door creaked open and someone stepped out of it. The moonlight didn’t make them see much, but Dean lifted his torch, the beam of light falling on a dark haired woman, her eyes flashing black when Dean’s beam went over her face.

“Sure we’re aware of you guys,” she said. “We could smell you miles away.” She tilted her head to the side, smiling while her hands casually went to the loops of her trousers. She wore a cape over her shoulders but there was no other shelter against the late December cold. “An angel and a human. You must be the Winchesters.” Dean stepped forwards, keeping his light on the woman.

“I’m Dean Winchester and this is Castiel. We haven’t come to fight.” The woman didn’t seem impressed and she shrugged. “We need information and…” Dean bit his lips and he took a deep breath before he continued. “And help.” The woman arched an eyebrow, but she seemed mostly amused. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Meg. Sure hope I’m good enough for you to do business with. This village lies on the outer circle, but you’re lucky. I come from way deeper.”

“I’m not sure if that’s reassuring, but if you’re willing to talk to us and maybe provide a bed for the night, then we’re willing to talk to you,” Dean said and Meg grinned again.

“Sure thing, Dean,” she said and turned on her heels, walking away. Dean darted Castiel a look, then they followed her. Now there were more sounds, with windows and doors being pushed open to watch them. All pale faces in the shine of Dean’s torch. It kept flickering but it didn’t fail him. Meg guided them to a house, the door creaking and the wood around their feet groaning. It was dark, even when Meg lit an oil lamp. Castiel saw a face press to the window, but when he looked it disappeared with a flurry of dark hair. Meanwhile Meg had boiled water and was now pouring it into cups with a handful of herbs.

“Relax, it’s just tea,” Meg said with a grin when Dean was reluctant to take the offering. Castiel sat down on the table and took the drink, tasting it for Dean.

“It’s good. Thank you Meg,” he said and even though Dean shot him a doubtful look, he started drinking too. He was still wrapped up in too many layers though he had now been forced to expose his chapped lips. Castiel supposed that it was rather cold even with the wind locked out of the house.

“I guess you’re here to talk about war,” Meg said and Dean put down the mug.

“We’re here to prevent a war,” he corrected and Meg laughed. It sounded hollow and dry and she looked angry even when she smiled. “I know that you have no reason to believe me, but while I bear a grudge against some of you, I do not want to fight a war.”

“You’re not gonna finish what you started? Happy with the spoils of war you did get?” She winked at Castiel and he didn’t particularly feel offended, other than Dean. But Meg’s face hardened and she looked back towards Dean. “For months we’ve been waiting for you to attack after you built your guard town. But nothing happened. Months passed and now we have to assume that you will attack us in winter. Wiping us all out when we’re already starving.”

“Is that your situation? In all of your realm?” Castiel asked and Meg snorted.

“We’re in the wastelands, there isn’t much growing here, especially not in the outer circles. We rely on trade, which Dean here has sort of cut off. We can’t go our usual way to the sea because he built a fortress town too close by it. Every caravan of goods would have been an easy target. It forces us to take different, more dangerous paths,” she explained and wrapped her hands around her tea cup. Castiel poured more hot water over the leaves on the bottom of her cup. She thanked him with a flirty smile that made Dean huff.

“And that’s why some demons were starting to get reckless,” he said and saw Meg nod. “Well, we’re not gonna attack you and if free trade is all you need then I’m happy to supply that.” Meg lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh, are you now?” she challenged mockingly and Dean clenched his jaw. “Oh I know how you’d die to see us all wiped out, because someone of ours took your Mommy and your Daddy.”

“There’s no need to be vicious, Meg,” Castiel admonished, putting his hand on Dean’s arm when he saw him clench his fingers around the hilt of the demon knife. Meg laughed and leant back in her chair. The mention of his parents made Dean even tenser than he had before. This was the whole reason he had ever wanted to march against the demons. He felt sick and his fingers ached with how hard the held onto the demon killing knife. Castiel’s hand on his arm rubbed soothing circles but they didn’t help to ease the riot of emotions that swelled in his chest.

“It’s all the same to me. If you want to play nice, then I’m gonna play nice too,” she told him, grinning at Dean challengingly. “It’s not like we have much to lose anyway. Believe it or not, I don’t quite want to see the outer circles dying just because we’re stubborn. Those poor bastards grow on you.”

“Do you have the means of getting in touch with your leaders and getting the word spread that Winchester won’t attack and will issue regulations to facilitate trade?” Castiel asked and looked towards Dean, “possibly support during the winter months?” The king balked at that at first but when Castiel stared at him, he nodded grudgingly. They had come here for a reason and it wasn’t for Dean to act out his revenge on anyone who dared to get in his way. He knew that and Castiel knew that.

“Humans and demons in an alliance? That sounds pretty terrible,” Meg said with a laugh, “I quite like the idea.”

“Stop babbling, just tell me if we can or cannot trust you to get this show on the road,” Dean barked and Meg waved her hand at him dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered,” she insisted and then Castiel saw her eyes gleam in delight, flashing black. “So, it’s a deal?” Dean nodded with a tense expression and held out his hand. Meg laughed. “Baby, a deal has to be sealed with a kiss.” Dean drew back his hand as if it was burned, staring at Meg and then at Castiel with a wide eyed expression.

“That’s true,” he said and Dean glared at him, “but I am sure that Meg can make an exception for you.” He said this his gaze firmly fixed on Meg and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re pretty territorial for an angel, but fine. Let’s shake hands.” They did that and Meg rose from the table. Dean however reached out and took a hold of her sleeve, yanking it so that she was sitting back down. “Second guessing it?”

“Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you?” Meg smiled sweetly and Dean had to force his anger down. “No, I need information,” he told her. His shoulders were hunched and his face grim. He almost didn’t feel Castiel’s hand on his back, trying to calm him. “Do you know why my family was killed?” Meg blinked at him, but then she laughed.

“Of course I know!” Dean narrowed his eyes at her but even though his expression had turned murderous, he reached out his hand to gently wrap his fingers around Castiel’s. He understood it as the silent plea for support it was and squeeze his hand. “It’s due to a feud that took place long before Winchesters even thought about setting foot on this continent. It was carried out on an old order that one of the demon lords – Azazel – had received in the last battle.”

“Azazel,” Castiel whispered, “you’re speaking about when the angels fought against the demons. It was almost 2000 years ago.” Meg nodded.

“It was easy for Azazel. He just had to topple a little stone over to unleash an avalanche that would hopefully wipe out both humans and demons.”

“Demons too?” Dean asked in surprise and Meg nodded.

“Very angelic plotting. Not Michael’s though, it had been Lucifer’s.” Dean turned to look toward Castiel, who had unconsciously tensed his fingers around Dean’s hand, which had elicited a small wince from Dean. “Your boyfriend apparently knows who I’m talking about.”

“Give me some credit, even I know who Lucifer is,” Dean groused, shaking his head. “I studied past warfare the angels did to figure out how to best defeat them. Lucifer was one of the generals that fought in the last battle. A charismatic leader, but a rotten person that hated humans even though we were far away at that point. I guess he knew that we wouldn’t forever stay across the ocean...” Meg watched him with a passive expression. “But Lucifer is long dead and buried. So why now? Why _my_ family?”

“Because you were getting powerful,” the demon replied calmly. “You humans were getting powerful enough to actually wage war on angels.” She lifted her hand and rubbed her fingers together. “So Azazel deemed the time right. He left a trail of breadcrumbs. Staged pillages, got the Winchesters to investigate, got them a few leads, took the wife, got your daddy some powerful knowledge, then killed him when he was sure that it would be passed on. He counted on you, Dean. And you delivered.”

“Azazel,” Dean said, slowly rolling the syllables over his tongue. “Azazel is the one who did this.” His face was grim, but other than the sadness that had reigned his features while Meg had talked before, now he was determined. It was easy to see how a man like Dean could manage to fight and win against angels. “Good.”

“Yeah, but though luck, Dean. He’s already dead. Your daddy took him out before kicking the bucket,” Meg told him and Castiel wished that she would have at least had the decency to be more delicate about the issue. As expected, Dean immediately tense next to him, his lips pressed into a pale line and his eyes were narrowed.

“He’s dead,” he repeated, keeping his voice calm and flat.

“Yes.” Dean didn’t react for a while, but then he let go of Castiel’s hand and was out of the hut before Castiel could call his name.

“What a pity, isn’t it? All this warfare for nothing,” Meg said and while she sounded cheerful at Dean’s apparent pain, when Castiel chanced to look at her, her face was hard and tired. He left her and went to find Dean.

The young king had not gone far. He had his hands on a wooden railing, which might have once been part of a fence around a vegetable garden. He was leaning heavily onto it, his harsh breathing visible in the puffs of white breath in the stinging cold air.

“Dean,” Castiel called after him. “Are you alright?” He didn’t say anything but let Castiel put his hand on his back. “You should come back in. It’s cold.”

“Just… Just give me a minute,” Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you need to be alone during this minute?” Castiel asked gently, but Dean refrained from answering, turning instead towards Castiel to wrap his arms around him. They stood like this for a long time while Dean regained his composure, his face pressed into the soft fur of Castiel’s collar, his hands buried in the feathers.

“It was all pointless,” Dean breathed. “I thought I could get closure on this. I thought that I could kill whoever had done this to my family, to _me_ and it’d be over.”

“I know Dean… I’m so sorry…” Castiel whispered.

“I thought that… Cas… I did bad things. But I always thought that the good that would come of it would make up for all of this. That I would feel free once the monsters that took away my family would be gone.” Dean’s voice came in puffs of hot air against Castiel’s neck and he couldn’t offer any more solace than hug him as hard as he could.

“You will make up for it, Dean. You’ve done nothing but make up for it. Of course, there won’t be the easy solution that ends in bloodshed, but I’m glad.” Dean stirred at that and lifted his head to look at Castiel. “I’m glad that there won’t be more blood staining your hands. It’s better this way. Trust me. Your father fought his battles and he ended it. He got the revenge for you.” Dean wiped his eyes, his face pale both from the cold and the shock of this revelation. He didn’t agree with Castiel, but he nodded eventually. He leaned in again, a silent plea to return to the momentary safety of Castiel’s embrace.

Only when Dean started shaking, did Castiel insist on going back.

Meg was gone when they returned to the house, but the fire was still burning and two children were holding their hands to it, draining the last of the tea on the table. Castiel recognized one of them as the face that had peeked into the window earlier.

“I’m Ruby,” she said, then she pointed towards the younger girl. “And that’s Bela.”

“Hello,” Castiel said but Dean just grunted something unintelligible and threw himself onto the bed even though Bela had the blanket wrapped around her shoulder. Her eyes were flashing red when she saw Dean glare at her, but when Dean simply took off his boots without saying anything, she relaxed.

“We had no light and Bela was cold,” Ruby explained, “there are coals in your stove.”

“You can stay here if you want to,” Castiel offered kindly and the demon girls nodded eagerly. They were unafraid of him, letting him heat some more water to wash and then drink more tea. They pulled at his feathers with curiosity.

“Aren’t you cold?” Bela asked, touching Castiel’s fingers with her little cool ones. “You’re warm!”

“You can play baby-sitter if you like, honey, but I’m gonna get some shut eye now,” Dean called from the bed in the corner, wrapped up in the coats and furs they had brought.

“I will join you,” he said and smiled at the children, before he went to the bed, lying down next to Dean. Ruby and Bela were standing around indecisively for a moment, but then Bela walked up to them, climbing onto the small bed and curling up on Castiel’s side, her face pressed to the feathers.

“You’re warm,” she said with a sigh. It took Ruby a bit longer to turn off the light and join the other girl. Dean was tense but when Castiel kissed him he at least relaxed a bit. The girls fell asleep quite quickly and Castiel studied them. They looked just like humans on the outside, even though the shimmering light of their souls had a very different quality than a humans. He could see the old magic that made up their beings, but they were closer to human than angel.

“Are your mother instincts kicking in?” Dean asked, his mouth right next to Castiel’s ear so the whisper tickled him.

“I don’t think I have those instincts,” Castiel replied. He wiped the dark blonde hair out of Bela’s face. “I just thought that they would have been the ones to suffer if you didn’t decide to make an effort for peace.” Dean shifted, the springs of the bed creaking, until he found a more comfortable position where he could also keep an eye on the demonic children. “What do you feel, now that you see them?”

“Nothing in particular. I don’t hate them just because they’re demons. And I don’t want them to die either,” Dean replied with a sigh. “But most of all I’m just tired… All kids are cute when I’m tired and they’re silent.”

“Well, I think they’re very sweet for abominations,” Castiel told him and Dean couldn’t hold back the laughter.

* * *

 

The next morning was as cold and uninviting as the previous night. Dean was happy to leave the village behind, even if it had cost him a blanket and two coats to prevent the children from tagging along.

“That would have made your odd little union perfect. A human king, an angelic outcast and two demon daughters,” Meg joked while laughing unpleasantly.

“What’s going to happen now? Will you accompany us to Kings Field?” Dean asked, ignoring her while they were taking care of their horses.

“Nah. I’m gonna go the first circle and talk to Lilith,” she said, wrapping herself up in the coat.

“Lilith is still around?” Castiel asked and Meg nodded.

“Who’s Lilith?” Dean wanted to know.

“Lilith is currently the most powerful demon. You might get a good deal with her. She doesn’t like angels, ever since siding with Lucifer in the last battle had cost her dearly, so I’m pretty sure she won’t make it easy for you. But Lilith isn’t stupid. She doesn’t want to be wiped out. Her lack of support of Azazel is probably quite telling. If she had intervened, there would have been no way that your Daddy could have taken him out.” Dean took a sharp breath through his nose.

“Well okay then. Get her to Kings Field. I’ll make sure that you won’t be stopped on the way there,” Dean decided and tugged at his horse’s rein. He nodded at Meg and then he was on his way. Castiel lingered behind.

“Will you be safe on your journey?” he asked, surprised when Meg started laughing.

“I will survive,” she said, then she turned around and was on her way back to the village. Castiel watched her retreating back.

“Cas! Come on! We’ve got to get moving before my dick freezes and falls off!” Castiel cast one last glance over the run down village, spotting Ruby and Bela pressing their noses against a window. They waved at him. He smiled and waved back before turning around and joining Dean.

“It’s odd...”

“If your penis froze and fell off?” Dean blinked and looked at Castiel in surprise, before he rolled his eyes. “It would make our binding impossible.”

“Can we stop talking about me losing my dick?” Dean groaned, shaking his head. There was already a light dusting of snow settling on Dean’s clothes. It was going to be a long and cold day of travelling. He just hoped they would leave the sulfurous lands before nightfall. “I meant how quiet and easy this was… I thought I would have to fight and prove myself. Grovel and shed blood. But we talked, drank tea, you cuddled some kids… I mean Cas… We are in demon lands!”

“Yes… And I’m glad we’re here. I told you there would be lots of innocent people to suffer if you just started a war. They are normal people, Dean. At least most of them are.”

“I know that,” Dean said defensively, pulling up his scarf so that the next words came out muffled. “I know it _now_.”

They made their way over the field in silence, but when they reached the edge of the bare forest Dean sighed heavily. Castiel looked over his shoulder, finding Dean look up at the interwoven branches and the white sky overhead.

“All the people who were involved in the murder of my family are dead. Meg was right. All I did was pointless. I spilled blood for nothing.”

“That’s war, Dean… You can’t really win. The you who only knew the grief and anger of loss thought this was the only right path. The you now, you who have gained a new perspective, will of course feel different. Maybe you understand the damages of war better now.” Dean continued looking at the sky, the snow falling onto his face.

“I just feel empty.”

“You’ll be alright… Even a war you won will leave its marks on you. You’ll feel better once everything is settled.” He stopped to let Dean catch up with him and pressed himself against him. “And when we get you out of this cold, you summer child.”

“I was born in winter, Cas,” Dean told him, looking down at him in wide eyed confusion. Castiel smiled and pressed his nose against Dean’s.

“Really? You could have fooled me,” he said, kissing the scarf that covered Dean’s mouth. “With how much you whine.” That teased a small laugh out of Dean, but Castiel felt it was better than nothing. He walked alongside Dean now.

* * *

 

Castiel woke with Dean pressed firmly to his back, hands wrapped up in his feathers. They had arrived late at Kings Field and it had been a tiring journey that was defined by the cold and sleeplessness. Dean had managed to send note to Michael before falling into bed, dead to the world. Castiel had gone through the process of unpacking and making sure that everything would be prepared for a warm bath on the following morning. The blinds were still drawn in their room and a comfortable, warm silence rested in it. It must have been early enough in the morning, but Castiel didn’t need much sleep.

Today, if they were fortunate, Michael would send them a favorable reply. It would probably take Meg and Lilith – if they decided to attend – a couple of days to arrive from the First Circle. Castiel remembered the maps of the sulfurous lands. Sprawling, austere lands on which nothing grew. Mountain cliffs with ragged edges and snowy peaks, dead forests, deadly swamps and uninhabited tundra for almost all of it. There were pockets of lands that were habitable. Before they had fought, with discord in their own ranks that had been almost worse than the devastation on the battle field against demons, the sulfurous lands had been made up mostly of dense forests and lush meadows. Those had all shriveled up and died. How the demons managed to still make this destroyed land their own was beyond Castiel’s imagination. They were adaptable, like humans, unlike angels.

He couldn’t help being nervous about what the peace discussions would bring. Part of him still considered demons to be a stain and he felt fear grip his heart as he imagined them spreading out again. But, this he had to recall, they were just people that deserved better conditions. He would push for that. If not for altruistic reasons, but because it was what he needed Dean to do. He needed Dean to be a good king that was able to overcome being blinded by age old fear and hatred. He _needed_ him to be good and righteous.

With a sigh, Castiel decided it was time to start the day. Dean made a sound of protest as he slipped out of bed. Castiel drew a hot bath and got washed. Afterwards he drained it and ran a new one for Dean. The king was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking exhausted. With utmost effort he raised his arm to rub his eyes. Castiel walked over to him and helped him up, dragging him into the bath room. He undressed him and that at least made Dean open his eyes a little to smile lewdly. Castiel ignored him in favor of getting him to soak in the tub.

“Don’t fall asleep here. I’m getting breakfast ready for you and check if there’s any mail,” Castiel warned him and Dean just hummed, sinking into the water. Castiel was slightly doubtful, but Dean was a grown man, he would manage.

The kitchen wasn’t well stocked, even though Jody had tried to prepare it for their swift arrival. There was no post yet, so he carried up a tray with breakfast into their bedroom and went to check on Dean. He was pink cheeked and fresh looking, face already shaved. He was sitting on the tub, still naked. He was paler now in winter, though there were still some freckles left on his face and his shoulders.

“Enjoying the view?” Dean said with a grin. He stood up and wrapped a bath robe around his mostly naked body. “My dick didn’t fall of. It’s still fully functional.”

“This is not relevant information,” Castiel teased. He set the table and felt Dean step up to him, pressing his warm, fragrant body against his back like he had while sleeping.

“You sure?” Dean whispered, kissing the back of Castiel’s neck. He felt Dean gently roll his hips against Castiel. “Is that okay? Can I do that?” His voice was a hot, moist puff of air that blew over Castiel’s neck. Castiel put his hands flat on the table, bending over slightly and Dean went with him. The additional weight pressing on his back felt different. Pleasurable and grounding. He didn’t reply to Dean, focusing instead of the slow grinding movement and the hands pulling and pressing against his back and chest. Castiel squeezed his eyes shut when he felt himself respond to it, but then he wanted to grab the table a bit harder and almost threw a tea cup from it. He made a startled move to grab it. He put it back down and there was silence and a lack of movement for a moment. He looked over his shoulder to find Dean biting his lips, looking slightly sheepish.

“Maybe being bent over the breakfast table isn’t the best way to do this,” Castiel commented and Dean laughed, bending down to kiss Castiel’s cheek.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” he said and let go of Castiel. They both sat down and Dean whined. “Great, now I’m having breakfast with a hard-on.” Castiel didn’t comment that, but he certainly shared the sentiment. They ate in silence until Dean started laughing, the sound muffled by the scone he had stuffed into his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” Castiel asked and Dean washed the scone down with a cup of tea before he attempted speaking.

“You, me. That we can sit at the table, drinking tea like respectable people while we both are hard from awkward fumbling around. It’s just not something I would have dreamed to be possible after the terrible start we had,” he said and Castiel watched the happy expression fall slowly to be replaced by a more guarded look. Castiel knew what kind of thoughts were circling in his head. “I’m happy that you gave me the chance.”

“I’m happy that you proved worthy of it,” Castiel told him, a gentle smile on his lips. Dean grinned at him, the frown lifting at once. They finished their breakfast talking about nothing relevant, taking their minds off of what lay ahead.

* * *

 

Michael’s letter of reluctant acceptance arrived later that day. By the time the king joined them at Kings Field for the council – on his own, surprising both Castiel and Dean – there had been no word from Meg.

“I am doubtful of a demon’s word,” Michael commented, but there was no particular malice in his words. Castiel knew that Michael would not actively demand war, but he wasn’t sure if Michael would allow for a treaty to impair his rights any more. Castiel watched Michael pace the airy and quite impressive room their meeting was held in. He had his arms crossed behind his back, casually strolling from one end to the other, looking out of the window and occasionally tracing his fingers across some sigils.

“They’re not bad, considering they’ve been done by the hands of humans,” Michael said when Castiel dared to step up to him. He had lost a lot of trust in Michael in the last few months, but he was still the king of the angels.

“Yes. Dean thought of many of these sigils. They’re well done,” Castiel said and Michael contemplated that silently.

“Hm. Your husband does have some skill,” he said benevolently. “I can appreciate a quick mind even though his genius has almost cost us our culture.” Castiel heard the silent scratch of a quill on paper stop. He looked over his shoulder and saw Dean glaring down at the paper.

“Giving up the only remaining potential Mother of this generation was probably not the strategically wisest move either. Just for the off chance that I would give birth to a child that would dethrone its father for you,” Castiel answered dryly. He tilted his head and looked up at Michael. “Did you really think that a child of mine would be loyal to a king that would devise such a plan?” His heart was beating loudly, he was pretty sure Michael could hear it or smell his fear, but he merely gazed at him before he pulled his mouth into a grim smile.

“I assume that I did underestimate you, Castiel,” he allowed and turned back to pacing. “If Lilith doesn’t arrive soon I will not consider her demands.”

“Do you think there will be demands?” Michael stopped and looked across the room where Dean was now putting the quill on the table.

“Clearly they are upholding their ends of a bargain, considering that the demons have stopped pressing in on us. I don’t know what you promised them, but demons will take whatever they can,” Michael explained but didn’t say more on the topic.

Castiel was searching for Dean’s eyes. Both were slightly worried.

“It’ll be alright,” Dean said and Castiel wasn’t sure if he was saying it to Castiel or to quell the fear in his own breast.

* * *

 

Dean was getting more nervous the longer Michael just stood in the room, waiting. He was an imposing figure, his massive wings blocking out the light that filtered into the room through the many windows. It was already getting dark again, the overcast sky turning grey, and Dean had offered the angel to sit down, to drink something, to eat something, to read a fucking book but Michael preferred to stand and make him uncomfortable.

Months ago, in the shattered remains of his audience chamber, Michael had not dared to be this dismissive. Dean had been sure of himself, victorious, powerful, and damn it he was still powerful now. He would make that dick sit down and drink a cup of tea! Dean was already standing up, not missing the nervous glance Castiel shot him, when Jody came into the room.

“Sorry guys, but I think your demons are here. You might need to lift some wards to let them in.” Dean heaved a sigh of relief, but it was rather short lived. Kings Field was built in a way that would not allow demons to enter. The spells necessary to still get them through the gates had taken him and Castiel two restless nights to come up with. He didn’t want to have powerful demons in this fortress which was supposed to display his dominance over the angels and a threat towards demons. He knew that his unease was not irrational. It was only prudent to be wary of demons and angels even when their powers were dimmed and Dean could still do a lot of damage if they thought about betraying him

“I’ll let them in,” Castiel offered and followed Jody out of the room. Dean was less than happy to be left alone with Michael.

“Well, I do hope that you will be as hard with them as you were with us,” Micheal said, his voice unhurried and unconcerned. Dean clenched his jaw.

“We’re negotiating for peace before a war breaks out. The situation is different. Besides, if I understand correctly this has all happened thanks to your brother’s vile scheming,” he told him, standing up from his writing table to sit down on the round table. Michael was finally moving away from the window, sitting down opposite Dean. His eyes were narrowed.

“We have paid the price for our war against the demons as we have paid the price for Lucifer’s rebellion,” he told him, eyes burning with an anger that he quickly and silently checked. “Now, this is about your war efforts. We were not your initial target, but yet you punished us heavily for not assisting you. But you will not punish them for standing by and watching your family be slaughtered?” Michael challenged and even though his eyes were hard, there was an unpleasant smile tugging at his lips - though everything about Michael seemed unpleasant now. Dean wondered when Michael had gained enough confidence to get on Dean’s nerves. Dean was still his boss in the hierarchy of things after all.

“I’m going to make decisions that will be most beneficial,” he hissed and glared at Michael, “and if I wanted to I could take everything you own. Don’t forget about that,” he warned him. Michael’s smile didn’t falter and Dean wanted to punch his face.

Castiel returned, followed by Meg and who Dean assumed to be Lilith. He rose for her, watching the Queen of demons advance. She was beautiful, dressed in white, with flowing blonde hair and eyes that turned white when she gazed upon Dean and Michael. There was something pure about her that didn’t fit with Dean’s idea of demons. Maybe the old demons living in the First Circle were different. Dean went to shake her hand, guiding her to the chair.

“Thank you for making it. I’m glad you’re willing to negotiate,” Dean told her and Lilith’s mouth pulled up at one corner.

“I wouldn’t miss it. I’m no idiot,” she said and cocked her head at Michael. “Who would have thought? The great and mighty king Michael sitting at a table with a lowly human and demon. You must be shivering in disgust and humiliation.” Dean was almost pleased to see his smile being replaced by an angry scowl. But whatever bad blood was between those two, it wasn’t Dean’s job to have it settled.

“Let’s talk business,” Dean decided and unrolled a map. “First things first. There will be no war.”

“Well, that’s just sad, because we’ve been dying to waste our resources and manpower in the middle of the fucking winter,” Meg spoke up from her seat next to Lilith.

“We agree not to fight, but the situation for us is still dire. Even more so after the establishment of this town,” Lilith said, more diplomatic than her assistant. “I offer to better control the outer circles as an effort to ensure peace.”

“And what are your conditions?” Dean asked, watching Castiel write down everything that was being said. Lilith laughed grimly.

“Conditions? You know we have nothing to pressure you with or offer you and yet you ask about conditions?”

“The demons should be happy about every scrap they are given,” Michael said disdainfully before Dean could answer.

“The situation in the sulfurous lands is not favorable,” Castiel interrupted before an argument could start, pointing the tip of his pen towards the outer circles. “Especially around here, where most of the skirmishes also take place. If the situation is not ameliorated Lilith can do little to stop them from causing trouble.”

“Yeah… There were poor harvests in five circles, dozens of villages had to be abandoned. That we’ve been cut off from the direct trading route makes the goods we cannot produce ourselves hard to get. Starving people will do reckless things,” Meg explained, pointing towards different places on the maps. “So what we need is a direct connection to major cities.”

“So consider that my _conditions_ ,” Lilith added calmly.

“You can access Kings Field, the gates will be open for you,” Dean decided, then he looked at Michael who was now far from pleased. “Castiel was against it but many things grow well here, Kings Field could probably establish some farms to cover the needs of the outer circles.” Michael didn’t say anything for a while, but when he finally turned to look at Dean, his eyes were lit up with an angry spark.

“We have received your acquiescence of a non-invasive control and no further loss of autonomy and lands at a high price. I cannot condone that demons take what is ours. I hope you do not expect me to be happy about this.”

“Yes, your high price is currently sitting to my right,” Dean hissed at him, which caused Castiel to tense next to him. Dean took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “I don’t mean to punish you. I know that you are getting the short end of the stick here. I was wrong to attack you and I’ve put a lot of effort into rebuilding what I destroyed.”

“You’re cleaning up your mess, but the demons’ situation is in large not caused by either you or me. They do not manage their lands and folk well. While I agree to return them to the previous status, putting effort into helping them sort out their flawed regime doesn’t sit well with me,” Michael explained and Dean wondered if he was purposefully being a dick about this.

“No fault of yours? Disregarding this war, it has been Lucifer – your brother – who started the war. The discord within your own ranks sparked the flames of war. And it burned down our lands. We’ve had to advance our civilization on the ashes of your battles,” Lilith reminded Michael. There was a flash of regret on Michael’s face, but Dean doubted that his heart was moved by the suffering of demons. Michael didn’t answer her, but lifted his hand in a placating gesture and looked towards Dean for his decision. Dean hoped that he could take it as a diplomatic effort on Michael’s side. Dean looked towards Castiel who gave him a tense but encouraging smile. So he turned his attention back to Lilith and Michael.

“I will withdraw the guards and return Kings Field to you, Michael. Elysium will not be touched, you don’t need to open its gates to Lilith. Your lands will not be diminished. But you will have to let them pass to the trading port and agree for my kingdom to check how you distribute the proceeds of Kings Field. You do not need them for your own city. They can and should be traded. You can keep all the revenue Kings Field makes, but you have to make sure that a percentage of the goods is open to purchase by the demon traders.” He studied Michael, whose expression didn’t tell Dean anything about how he took this offer. “What do you say? Does that sound agreeable to you?”

“I will accept these conditions,” he finally said and Dean could just hold back a groan of relief.

“Well, great. So we’ve sort of agreed on this. I think we’ll leave the working out of a proper treaty and all the details to lawyers,” Dean decided and then he got to his feet to hold out his hand to Lilith. “I just want this peace to last for a while. So I hope you’ll actually make an effort. It should be to your mutual benefit.”

“Is there a threat behind those words?” Lilith asked with a gleeful smirk. Dean didn’t think he had to answer that and Lilith smiled some more. Dean then held out his hand to Michael. “My war on you was unjustified. Blind rage caused this and I don’t want a repeat of it. I know that you plotted my demise and I cannot fault you that. But if I take notice of you doing anything to threaten the peace we’re trying to establish no sense of guilt will hold me back from retaliating. I hope this is clear.”

“Of course,” Michael told him, his expression carefully neutral.

“I think we won’t have seen the last of each other, king Winchester,” Lilith said with a grin as they all went towards the gates. Most of the inhabitants of Kings Field were out in the street, observing the group. Announcing this new alliance would probably not go down terribly well in all parts of his kingdom. “I do look forward to it.” She looked at Michael, lifting her head with a haughty sneer. “Good day.” Dean watched them leave and almost sunk down on the floor. He was so exhausted. Damn angels. Damn demons.

“That went very well,” Castiel said, taking his hand. Dean sighed and turned to look at him, finding that Castiel’s smile cheered him up. “I’m very proud of you. It will still take a lot of effort, but I’m happy that you even considered finding a peaceful solution. I’m sure it must make you feel torn.”

“It does… Damn it… I just wanted to slaughter everyone and now I’m actually forging alliances.” Castiel laughed and tilted his head up to kiss Dean’s jaw.

“You’re going to be a good king. I hope that you will be remembered for your contributions to peace and not to war.” Dean smiled at that and turned towards Castiel. He wiped his hair out of his face and cupped his cheeks.

“Thank you. For having faith in me,” he told him and bent down to kiss him. “Thank you…”


	13. Chapter 13

It was well past midnight when Dean finally returned to their room after a long day of debating with the council of Kings Field and sending out carriers to all reaches of the kingdom. He was exhausted and tense. Castiel ran his fingers gently through Dean’s hair as he was lying next to him on the bed. Enough had been said already, so they weren’t talking now, simply enjoying the quiet of the room and each other’s presence.

Castiel thought that Dean had drifted off to sleep, but then he turned his body towards Castiel’s. He only saw Dean’s eyes for a short while because a moment later Dean’s mouth covered his and his hands slowly travelled over Castiel’s body. Castiel sighed into the kiss, relishing the soft press and drag of lips and Dean’s tongue tracing the shape of his mouth. His fingers pulled at Dean’s thin shirt, gently urging him closer. Dean slipped his fingers under Castiel’s clothes, relearning the inviting shape of his body, pressing and kneading flesh. He let go of Castiel’s well-kissed mouth and sat up. He looked down at Castiel, who felt nothing but content at this moment.

“God, I love you so much,” Dean moaned helplessly, running both hands through his own hair. “And I almost messed it up.”

“You didn’t in the end,” Castiel assured him, touching his elbows so that Dean would lower his arms again. “You messed me up. I wanted nothing more but run from you. But I put myself back together again.”

“You put me back together again,” Dean insisted, leaning down to kiss Castiel’s collarbones, taking his hands into his own to kiss those next. Castiel felt both the warmth of affection and the more diffuse heat of arousal gently spreading through him.

“I did a good job. I like who you are now,” he assured him.

“I’m not… I’m not ready for this bond,” Dean admitted, hiding half his face behind Castiel’s hands, soothing the feared sting of his words with kisses to Castiel’s knuckles. “I just… I almost forced you into it and now I’m the one too terrified to do it.”

“I’m not ready for it either, Dean… That doesn’t mean that you can’t court me or that we can’t share intimacy. It just means that there are certain things we’re not ready to do yet,” Castiel assured him and moved his legs so that they now rested on either side of Dean’s knees. He pulled his hands back, making Dean follow until he was a solid and comforting weight resting on top of him.

“I’ll have inquire after medical records on your anatomy. This soul bond is stupid,” Dean muttered against Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel was pretty sure that he was pouting, but also that it was mostly to hide the turmoil of other emotions that Dean currently felt.

“Yes… Somehow it is. But it has benefits too. At least if we do commit, you’ll be mine for longer than just 50 years. Even if this is what you fear so much.” This teased a breathy laugh out of Dean, but he could feel the ebbs and flow of his fears under his fingertips. From head to toe Dean was torn between joy and adoration and the darker abysses of guilt and fear. Maybe the constant fluctuation between those emotions and trying to manage a balance was what being human was all about.

Dean trailed kissed along the top of Castiel’s chest before his lips started sucking marks. They were fast fading and Dean let out a growl of irritation.

“None of the marks I leave will be permanent,” Dean said but before he could lift his head Castiel wrapped his arms around his shoulders, keeping him down. He kissed the crown of Dean’s head, his hair soft and smelling fresh.

“All of them are. But few will be visible for others,” Castiel said and when he was sure that Dean wouldn’t sit up he let his hands roam. “I will know that they were there. I will know that you were here. Between my legs and with your lips pressed to my heated skin.” Dean moaned weakly at that but his words were enough to make him move. His hands slipped to Castiel’s bare legs, pushing all the fabric out of the way. Dean’s fingers got tangled in the material as he tried to rush without making it seem frantic. But his heart beat faster and his muscles were tense with the strain of containing himself.

The feeling of skin on skin had a delighted moan slip from Castiel’s mouth. He had never been interested in this, most certainly always feared it before, even with Dean. But now the movement of Dean’s erection against his own stirred something within Castiel as well. He felt too hot to be entirely comfortable, but he felt good. Dean’s fingers were everywhere and his mouth swallowed the breathy gasps.

“You’re so beautiful,” he heard Dean say and Castiel moved his legs around Dean’s waist to pull him close, to get him to rub against him again. Dean didn’t lose any time to do it, carefully rolling his hips until he was pleased with the sounds Castiel made and how he bucked up to search for more friction. He was getting restless, feeling his wings twitch and a need coil tight into his stomach that made breathing feel hard.

“I wish you could,” he said before he could think better of it and Dean’s fingers wrapped around both their erections. It set sparks alight in Castiel’s head.

“I can do other things,” Dean promised and sat back a little and then there was pressure against Castiel’s opening. His eyes snapped open and he gripped Dean’s wrist. He didn’t want him to stop, but followed the movements of the tips of his fingers. Castiel only vaguely recalled the wedding night. He recalled how desperate he had been and how he had burned up inside. How the toy had felt slipping in and out of himself; painful and wonderful both at once, every drag and push soothing the terrible ache within him until there was nothing but pleasure.

There was no more fear or desperation now that his relationship with Dean had changed and he moved against the fingers inside him. Dean was murmuring things to him, but Castiel didn’t hear him over the sound of his feathers and the bed creaking and his own loud breathing. Four fingers drove in and out of him, faster and faster the more Castiel responded and soon he found his pleasure peaking and all his breath left him. He felt nothing more but blinding white and bliss zapping through him from the top of his wings to his toes digging into the flesh of Dean’s thighs.

“That’s it baby, wow… Look at you. There you are again,” Dean said, his voice gentle. When Castiel opened his eyes and felt feeling return to him he saw Dean lying on his side. Castiel squinted and looked down at Dean, seeing that his dick was soft again. “Yeah, sorry. I took care of it. Seeing you come was too hot. I came after barely more than a few touches.” He sounded slightly hoarse and definitely tired. He threw his arms up, stretching. “That was awesome.”

“It was,” Castiel agreed, grinning at Dean. “It is definitely something we need to repeat.” Dean chuckled at that and wrapped his arm around Castiel to pull him close. Both of them were still hot and sweaty and sticky but Castiel didn’t mind.

* * *

 

They were still in Kings Field when a letter from Michael came that slowed all the flurry of activities down for both Dean and Castiel.

“So he wants to you to return to the city. Once and for all,” Dean said. The tea had already gone cold and reflected the bright winter light. It was the new year now, two weeks into January.

“It’s not an order,” Castiel answered but didn’t say more. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, not able to keep in the anger and the sadness.

“So, he saw how you have almost single-handedly made a good king out of me and now he thinks he would like you back?” Dean demanded to know but kept his eyes resolutely on the window without actually taking notice of what lay beyond it. The day was too bright and cheerful for this.

“I feel that’s about the gist of it,” Castiel agreed silently. He was clenching his hands on top of the desk and biting his lips. He didn’t look up when Dean sighed heavily or when he heard his steps make the wooden floor creak. He didn’t look up either when Dean put his hands on Castiel’s shoulders.

“That’s what you wanted Cas… He’s taking you back because you’re brilliant. Not because you’re a tool. You should take the chance you are given.”

“Will you still love me if I leave?” he asked, voice thick and heavy and he didn’t want to be feeling like this. Dean kissed the top of Castiel’s head.

“I will love you. No matter what,” Dean promised.

Castiel sent his letter of acceptance later that day.

* * *

 

Castiel travelled back to Lawrence to say his goodbyes and celebrate Dean’s birthday. Even though they all knew that Castiel would be leaving on the following day, it was a merry feast with lots of dancing and singing.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” Jo said but she kept that cheerful façade on for the sake of the party. “I thought you’d be happy here now.”

“I am happy here, Jo. But I have to do it.” She was less than pleased to hear it and Castiel was afraid that they would part with this chilly atmosphere between them. But he could do nothing to change her mind about it. “It sucks. You and Dean love each other and you’re going.”

“I am going,” he affirmed and Jo said nothing more.

“So you said that Michael will let you continue your training. Are you going to be on his council then?” Sam was far more open about Castiel’s return to his home. They all were sad but at least they still spoke to him.

“Maybe.” In truth Castiel didn’t know. He didn’t know what was waiting for him in the city. He didn’t know about the state of his feelings right now. He saw Dean sitting in his chair, listlessly poking at his fruit salad. “Please excuse me, Dean looks like he needs to dance.” Sam smiled gently, patting him on his back.

“Dean?” Dean looked up at once when Castiel approached him. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing much… I just think half of the country will hate me by the time tomorrow’s newspaper is released.” Castiel sighed, sitting on the armrest of Dean’s chair. Dean let his head drop against Castiel’s back.

“They will understand. Eventually. The people in this town are good people, Dean. I was your captive when you married me. That I might want to return to my home was always a possibility. They will understand that you’re just,” he told him. Dean didn’t reply, but merely pressed his forehead against Castiel’s feathers a bit more.

“I’m going to go half mad without you here. I’ll miss you every day for the rest of my life.”

“I’m not gone, Dean… We can still write to each other,” he promised. He turned around and Dean sat back up so that Castiel had enough space to slip into his lap. “I know you might think me cold to leave you even though our emotions for each other are firm and deep, but it’s my home, Dean… I have to see that things are going to be alright. I have to make sure that _I_ will be alright.” Dean nodded, smiling despite the wetness in his eyes. “Do you want to dance?” Castiel offered gently and Dean laughed.

“Yes, Cas. I want to dance.”

* * *

 

Early summer had the Garden of Eden in bloom. The vivid green expanded over the boundaries of the garden, turning the white city green. The capital was peaceful but at times it was silent even during the long summer days. The lack of voices and murmurs of Grace was the most noticeable long term effect of the short war that had raged a year earlier. Vicious and quick it had burned through the lands and torn into the peaceful and sheltered life of Castiel. It had left its marks, torn holes into the fabric of his reality. His family had died, his father still chose not to return to the city even after his disgrace had been lifted. Things were different now, emptier, but routine had returned.

With keen eyes he had observed Dean’s progress from the distance of the city and behind the high walls. The king was doing well and only his letters let Castiel know of the hardships he encountered. The peace was not easily won, even after Lilith and Michael had both agreed to the terms of their alliance. Some of the humans were displeased by the abrupt end of Dean’s conquest, disappointed that the victory march of humanity was cut short by peace. Despite this, Dean managed to establish himself as the most powerful ruler on the continent, with strong ties both to the families overseas and allies in all three realms.

The sulfurous lands were also flourishing, as not only Meg but also the small Ruby and Bela would tell him. The Grace rich seeds that were harvested in Kings Field were able to return some life to the ravaged fields for the first time in centuries.

Castiel had no reason to be anything but pleased.

There was a knock. He tore his eyes away from the chessboard where a game between him and Rachel was still standing from her visit earlier today. Michael was stepping into his room and Castiel rose to his feet. The king did not tend to visit him in his home.

“You lost a game?” was the first thing he asked after he had observed the chess board.

“My thoughts were elsewhere,” Castiel confessed and Michael smiled at him. He picked up the black queen which had been lying next to the board, defeated. He turned the beautifully carved figure around in his fingers. It had been worn soft by the centuries of use, the wings and the crown having lost their sharp edges.

“I heard you helped settle the problem in the northern garrison,” Michael said and Castiel nodded, watching Michael sit down opposite him. He arranged the pieces on the chessboard again, but he set the black queen in the middle instead of returning her to the position in front of Castiel. They were not going to play, Castiel knew that.

“Yes. The sigils I provided them with embellished their shields well,” he said and Michael nodded.

“We have found our balance again. What we need now is to move forwards. To think about the future and prosper. Many have been lost, but I feel that in due time we shall recover,” he said and looked at Castiel over the chees board. “You are the only one left to bear children now, at least for the next hundred or two hundred years until the next generation comes of age. Does this knowledge rest heavy on your shoulders?”

“It doesn’t. I have faith in our perseverance,” Castiel replied and Michael chuckled at that and reached out to pluck the black king off the board. Setting him down next to the queen.

“I admire your faith. But sometimes a more active approach is needed. I have learnt that now.” Castiel wasn’t sure what to make of his words even though he was not surprised to hear the next: “I would like to invite you to be my queen and bear my children.” Castiel was silent, watching the earnest expression on the king’s face. He did not press him for an answer, patiently waiting. Castiel smiled at him.

“Once that was what I wanted. No, what I expected,” he told him. “But I have to refuse. My bags are already packed.” Michael tilted his head and the smile on Castiel’s face spread. “I’m going home.”

“Hm,” the king said, leaning back in his chair and putting his hand on his crossed legs. “You are sure.”

“Sure as one can be when dealing with a human,” Castiel replied and Michael chuckled. Castiel was glad that there was no anger or animosity in the man opposite him.

“He knows how to make you happy. We have wronged you – _I_ have wronged you. Letting you go and wishing you the best of luck is the least I can do.” Michael rose to his feet and Castiel did the same.

“I thank you.”

“No, I thank you, Castiel. You have saved us. And if, when centuries have passed, you will return to us the gates will open for you.” Castiel bowed to him and watched him leave. Castiel turned his head towards the window. The sun stood high in the sky and there was a nice wind. It would be nice weather to fly.

* * *

 

There were banners in the streets, purple and gold and garlands of flowers circling around window frames. The lamp posts looked like they were in bloom with huge baskets of flowers and white and green ribbons attached to them. Castiel saw all that from above as he came to rest on top of a roof. The chimney was busy spitting fragrant smoke. His view of the city was momentarily clouded by the wind blowing the smoke towards him but when it cleared up again he could see all the way to the castle gates. They were wide open and as lavishly decorated as the rest. He could see people walking around, unhurried in their celebrations.

Castiel reveled in the breeze some more, but then he took a couple of steps and jumped off the roof. Someone in the streets beneath was shrieking but Castiel didn’t pay them any attention. He saw that the second floor window to Dean’s atelier was open and he aimed for it, landing on the roof above it.

“What the-“ came the startled voice from within and Castiel hopped from the roof to the ledge, just in time to see Dean fall back into the room, yelping. Castiel laughed in delight, stepping down into the room just as Dean was gathering his bearings. The king looked healthy, with his hair looking golden and the summer sun having brought out his freckles. Even though he didn’t leave the same dignified impression on him as the first time he had seen him, he was wonderful and beautiful.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, getting to his feet. “You’re…” Dean stopped talking, staring at him and looking him up and down.

“I’m home,” he asked and Dean’s baffled expression didn’t ease up. The bells of the big cathedral started ringing and Dean was shaken out of his stupor.

“And just in time for our first wedding anniversary,” he managed to tease. “And here I thought I’d spend it alone with a bottle of whiskey and my hand as sole companions.”

“Don’t be so crass,” Castiel admonished but then Dean’s face changed to one of pure joy and he laughed and laughed until there were tears streaming down his face and Castiel was no longer sure if he was laughing or sobbing. Dean came to embrace him, kissing every inch of his face, pushing him to the couch and pinning him there, nestled between Castiel’s legs.

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Castiel said, breathless now because Dean had started tearing at his clothes, desperate to touch and kiss. “I flew as fast as I could. I knew I would come back, Dean. I _knew_ it, but I had to be sure that it was my decision alone.”

“I hoped that you would come back, and I can’t believe you’re actually here again! I was willing to wait ten, twenty years, a life time if necessary.”

“I don’t know if you could have waited a life-time, considering how impatient you are, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Castiel said and Dean bit down on his nipple in retaliation.

The rushed undressing turned to a more unhurried moving against each other.

“I haven’t yet figured out a proper spell to stop the binding from happening if I get my dick into you. This is like a tricky, ridiculous puzzle. Your anatomy and the magic woven into your very being is fucking weird,” Dean grumbled and pushed his fingers into Castiel.

“This is good, this is good,” he assured him breathlessly as Dean continued to pleasure him. It didn’t take long for him to squeeze his eyes shut and to come all over Dean’s other hand. “Dean…”

“Shh,” Dean mumbled, gently kissing Castiel. He made quick work of his own erection and let himself drop on the couch next to them, both spent and delighted.

“Hey…,” Dean muttered after a while and lazily tugged himself back into his trousers. Castiel opened an eye to look at him. “About the soul bond…”

“It’s okay if you’re not ready yet, Dean,” Castiel assured him, sitting up as well. It was hot up in this room and even the breeze coming in through the window couldn’t make it much better. His robes were sticking to his skin.

“I am ready. I mean I’m ready for the commitment, I’m maybe even ready for the kids… But immortality… It kinda scares me.”

“I know… You don’t have to decide now,” Castiel promised and Dean sighed.

“I know that I’ve already decided,” he confessed and Castiel lent in to embrace him. “You’re it for me. You’re the most important person in my life.”

“You’re also the most important person in my life,” Castiel repeated and let himself be pulled to his feet by a smiling Dean. “And I would like to start a family with you. Soon.” Dean grinned at him and winked. It was a promise.

“How about we get a shower and go to the cathedral? We could renew our vows,” Dean suggested. Castiel agreed to that and Dean pulled him down stairs and into the street.

“Cas is back!” he would tell anyone they crossed paths with and as expected it took them long into the after-noon until they were finally back in the castle where they were welcomed by a teary eyed Sam and a clapping Charlie.

Castiel’s return was used to make the festivities even grander, drawing it long into the night. The street lamps cast lots of glittering light and swaying shadows around. The whole city was lit up and everyone had pulled their tables and chairs out, eating in the wide streets.

Dean, in the same clothes he had worn on their wedding and with the crown on top of his head was dancing with Castiel through the streets.

“I promise that you will be happy with me. I promise to raise our children well. I promise to make sure that your family will be well cared for. I promise that we’ll make it work,” he repeated the vows. Castiel recalled what he had replied to that, a year ago: _I promise that I will do my best to find happiness_. He had found it now.

“I promise that I’m happy. I promise to raise our children well. I promise that our family will always be well cared for,” he replied and kissed Dean’s smile. “We made it work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> And think about letting [Michelle](http://aiulbones.tumblr.com/) know what you thought of her wonderful art! ♥


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